( i can see your body moving ) every&anyone

[ollie]

( ooc: THIS IS LUCA'S INTRO. STAND BACK PEOPLE.
and this might mean people might have to make some ladiiiies. because we need some estrogen up in this piece. i'm ttly srs. )

Lake Regina was always a beautiful place to be, and today wasn’t an exception. Children laughed and boys let arrows free, the festivity not waning with time. Instead, it grew larger as people arrived—peasants in their best garb, royalty, even people that were not from Regina—as the people anticipated the festivities of the night: the gypsies. Currently, they were there, but it was different; the gypsy prince (or, king, rather, as there was no other gypsy that contended with him) was currently out of the camp, and at this time the gypsies were playing more the role of something more fanciful. The women told fortunes, the men swallowed fire and swords and other garish objects, and they set free arrows that sparked and fell to the lake, which swallowed their fire. A group of them danced in the shallows, the women with halos of their skirts around their thighs, and the men twirled them about; one women practically went soaring, before being caught, and—still laughing—they went back to dancing, careless and free. A child, a simple Reginien, splashed into the water, and two women took his hand, holding him above the water, his feet paddling the surface, and a younger girl put a lily pad crown on his head, alighting a kiss on his nose before dancing off with her siblings and friends. As careless and free as the wind, the gypsies could be.

“The king!” a woman cried, and people stumbled about, some freezing, to see the king. He was a handsome man no older than twenty, his fair skin a testament to his breeding—the child of a royal, whether it be his father or mother no one knew, and child of a gypsy lover. His sideburns were dark and covered much of his temples, almost reaching his strong jaw line, and his eyes were light, shining with youth and mischief. He was on horseback, the large bay stallion bearing forward without effort, flaring his nostrils at a man that came to close. As he pulled on the reigns, arm muscles rippled and he smiled smoothly, full lips becoming a trickster's smile. The gypsies in the encampment lowered onto a knee, bowing their foreheads to their raised knee, a gesture used only by the gypsies. The boy in the water stared up at him, gap toothed mouth open, and his mother didn’t notice that the king was looking at the dark haired boy until he dismounted, leaving his horse to be held by a young boy, who led him away to the other horses, and the king was walking to the boy, face grim as he studied him. The boy shook slightly, and people watched as the gypsy king’s eyes flicked from his face to the lily pad. Finally, his mouth broke out into a grin, and he pulled the boy onto his hip, kissing his forehead. A gypsy gesture, indeed.

“So, I’ve been dethroned,” he laughed, and the boy grinned proudly as he was handed back to his mother, lily pad crown still on his head. The king had his own crown, or (in honesty) a circlet, which sat lightly on his medium windblown blond hair. Dressed extravagantly, with a cloak made of a mix of different furs, all animals killed by his own hand, and boots that traveled up almost to his knees, made of a mahogany brown leather carved decoratively with a silver toe, his other clothes would be simple if it were not for the fact that his tunic’s hem raised at his hips, sometimes showing his hip bones and sometimes only showing the top of his breeches, he was dressed kingly and provocatively, but with the slight angles to his face from his gypsy blood it was made difficult not to see him as anything but handsome. The warrior prince—the rough prince. You could imagine what rumors spread, and some were true; he had sired many children already, though few did he father. They were all bastard children born to nobles, to faraway princesses, to fallen widows. Anyone he could charm out of their clothes and into his bed, given that they were at least relatively beautiful, of course.

____________________________________________________ >> ___

As the sun crested the mountains, and the moon took dominance, Luca the Gypsy King takes his seat in his throne, which was indeed stolen from a king in a kingdom far away. The poor man was dead, anyway—who really needed it? His spoiled sons? Whatever Luca wanted, Luca took, which was certainly a gypsy trait. The thieves of Regina, the pick pockets—the dream weavers. A gypsy could get you anything; make you anything, though always for a price that usually outweighed the benefit. They made wolves their pets, raised the best warhorses—there were good and bad things about the gypsies, and Luca was the embodiment of the give and take of good and bad.

Smiling effortlessly, a smile a woman had once said “he must have been born with, it is so natural,” Luca brushed the woman on his lap off, scratching his dog’s—or, rather, wolf; a lean thing with a brown hide and yellow eyes—head in passing, he began his walk through the camp, watching as more people appeared to see the dancing. Women and men, the best gypsies and some just visitors, danced with interlaced hands, their bodies moving of their own free will, not thrashing but instead doing something like swaying, constantly moving in a circle. Luca broke the circle, taking his place between two women, moving with them. That effortlessness he had been born with—with the confidence of a king, the certainty that whatever he tried, with whomever, would succeed and turn out lovely, like him (he saw his flaws, of course, but Luca considered himself mostly lovely as he was biased), and so everything exuded certainty. The fire crackled in the center of the circle, sometimes growing larger and sometimes lowering, as if searching for a way out of the ever-moving circle. After a moment or so, Luca stepped back, slapping the girl that had been to his left on the bum (as nonchalantly as if he knew her personally, though she was actually a peasant from town), pulling off his shoes and stepping into the cool lake, sitting down on the edge of the grass and soaking his legs.

Luca appeared worse for wear for a moment, his mind enveloping everything. His sister, the “gypsy princess,” famed for being sweet and all-knowing (it was more that imbeciles came to her with obvious problems, but she wouldn’t tell them that), was at the castle, currently being treated for illness. He couldn’t tell his people, oh no—Zenda was almost sacred to them, and it pained Luca himself that she was ill. She was sacred to him in a different way, a more painful way. Rubbing his face, he sighed and glanced up as he heard steps behind him, finding his wolf coming to sit with him. She licked his ear, tickling him, and he laughed before smiling and pulling her closer, scratching her heartily. He seemed to earn every female heart; even female wolves. He sighed, glancing at his wolf before up at the castle in the background. “She’ll be home soon, I promise,” he said quietly, glancing down at his wolf, who had closed her eyes as he’d turned his rubbing into stroking. He smiled, looking back at the castle, wondering if Zenda was getting any healthier any faster. Wouldn’t that be nice? “I wish we could save her, I do. But I can’t pretend we know what we are doing… not for Zenda.” he said quietly, and the wolf licked her lips tiredly, not caring much about his words, though her ears were perked forward. Not that she really understood. It was nice to speak to someone somtimes without them understanding, though, and so Luca didn't mind. But still, he did want human female company, and he glanced over his shoulder, searching for a woman (or even man, if it came down to it; gypsies weren't shy about homosexuality, or at least for the most part) to charm into bed.

____________________________________________________ >> ___

( ooc: so this may be subject to change at any time, but it's put up mostly so i can get luca working. zenda will have her own thread, eventually, if i decide to make her an individual character. she's more like a supporting character, so to speak, at this time. anyway, this is luca, and this is for anyone, so either you claim it or this is a group thread. :D okay, i think that's all i have to mention.

oh, and yes, luca is bisexual! and damn proud! >| so yea whatever this is luca have some naughty fun. 8D he has a phd in naughty fun. /pedobearwink. SO BRING ON THE B- I MEAN PEOPLE. /pedobearwinkagain. )

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[Di]

“You idiot! You’ve ruined everything!” Clangs of pots and pans resounded behind the royal palace’s kitchen doors.

He could still hear the heavy panting behind him, but he didn't dare look back, for fear of tripping. All he did was kept running, running, his feet pounding over against the tile. The simple white and silver of the kitchen made his eyes sting as he raced down, the other chefs in the kitchen provided as the only obstacles to guide him. “Make way!” Caine shouted, nearly knocking over the pastry cook in the midst of tossing the dough into the air, charged on as he heard the clanging of utensils approaching. The usually bustling kitchen was completely silent save for maybe a few chefs who were groaning his name with annoyance, who didn't give a damn one way or another than he was being chased by a giant, lumbering beast.

Caine’s lungs were on fire as he skidded around a corner, nearly losing his footing on the slick, polished marble of the tile, made more treacherous by the fresh wax he had recently polished the floor with. Oh, the irony of his own work plotting against him. Behind him, the panting suddenly ceased, and there was a loud crash from under his boots, startling him as a ladle made him slip up on the hard ground, crashing down on his backside with a yelp.

At first, he was terrified to turn and see how close the beast was, and desperately crawled to the other side of the table to get distance from him and the animal. His back pressed against the table, his chest heaving and his eyes frantic. Finally, Caine worked up the courage and turned around, bracing himself for what he might find. The “beast” loomed over the opposite side of the table, if a beast counted as a five foot portly man. However, the redness of his face did give Head Chef Jean Bruno an intimidating edge.

“You little ingrate, you added too much ginger to the sauce! Now the goose is ruined!” Jean Bruno roared with his nasally French drawl, clutching at the edge of the table top with pudgy fingers. Caine's ice blue eyes flashed at this, his jaw tightening. The air grew hot as both temper collided. The other chefs couldn't help but be just a little startled, though they didn’t dare interfere.

Caine growled, "It was an accident! It wasn’t my fault someone pushed me over while I was grating it just to get a taste-test!" He mimicked Jean Bruno, placing both hands on the table and leaning in. “So I accidentally added a teaspoon more! Just add a teaspoon of the other ingredients.” It seemed to be a rather rational solution, if he thought so himself. But the hissing of his fellow chefs told him otherwise. Jean Bruno’s face purpled.

“ADD A TEASPOON MORE?!” The vibrato of his roar shook the spots and pans that hung above them. Jean Bruno clambered onto the table top. “Insolent apprentice! You know NOTHING of the culinary arts! You are a disgrace!” With each word, the Head Chef stormed towards Caine until his feet practically squished his apprentice’s fingers.

Caine only laughed back bitterly. “Oh, pardon me, your royal heinous! I’ll do you a favor and take my leave!” Biting pain a groan of pain, Caine yanked his fingers free from underneath his master’s boots, untying the apron in a blind fury. “Find someone else to degrade! I quit!” That said, Caine tossed the apron at the ground. However, as he turned on his heel to leave, his toe caught on the white cloth, causing him to stumble with a swear. His face burned with humiliation as Jean Bruno cackled, shuffling out the double doors as though the room was on fire.

---

“Stupid, arrogant old fat man!” Caine rambled, stomping with his fist clenched at his sides. He didn’t know how, but his blind rage led him down passed the town and to the Lake Regina boarders. “Who needs him anyway?” He scoffed. Slowly, his feet came to a slow stop. His eyes widened with recognition as hands ran through his short red hair, his freckled nose crinkling with frustration as he growled. “I do… Who will take me as an apprentice now? I’m practically a man!” It was true. At age nineteen, no one would be willing to take on apprentice at such a late age.

“Damn!” Caine swore loudly, unaware of how close he was to the gypsy festival and how many people looked curiously about to find the source of the angry outburst. His eyes looked about the ground, as though he’d find an answer to his troubles in the grass. When all he found was a rock, Caine reared his leg back to kick it. Unfortunately, the floors of the palace kitchen weren’t the only slippery surfaces. The dew of the grass caused the redhead to slip, falling into the lake with a shriek. And on top of that, as Caine remembered that he couldn’t swim. What a coincidence.

[ollie]

luca wasn’t as moved by the outburst as his people and guests, only glancing over when his wolf’s head turned. the sleek beast eyed caine warily, as did luca, and the gypsy king had a feeling he knew exactly what was going to come next. the redhead—the very handsome redhead, he had to admit—was looking peeved. people in anger that came to the lake, as luca had come to learn, tended to kick any stone no matter its innocence. a few of the majority skipped the rocks, but very few, so luca turned away to watch a swan drift on the water, uninterested in this overly common display of anger. the wolf was still watching, though, eyes glowing fervently. “nothing abnormal, no need to stare.” luca joked, flicking her ear. her ear moves back and she glanced at him, but he could hear a sound in the back of her throat like a dog’s bark as she watched. then luca heard the splash.

luca turned his head, watching the last of the fiery hair disappear into the black water. he frowned, waiting for him to resurface, but he didn’t. that was what alerted him to the problem.

luca pulled off his circlet, putting it beside him and tugging off his shirt. the toned body was certainly worked, most likely from long days in the war, and standing on grass-stained feet, he dove into the water with the ease of someone who’d done it for most their life. and he had. the water was familiar and would be calming around him if it weren’t for the fact that it was taking the redhead down, down, to his death, even if he struggled. lake regina was deep: luca had taken his people here before to take out their dead in their typical way. the water somewhat stung his eyes but he didn’t care, holding his breath as he followed the lowering red hair.

he reached down, grabbing his hand and tugging him up, wrapping his arms around his torso to keep control as he brought him up to the surface. with a final kick, luca broke the surface, letting out a breath, and taking footing on the only shallow point of the lake, he pushed caine into the grass before pulling himself up, smoothing back his hair. sitting, he didn’t take notice to the fact that his pants were stuck to his equally muscular legs or his lack of a shirt could make for an awkward time. pulling caine into a sitting position, leaning him against his chest, he began half-patting half-pounding on the young man’s back, getting whatever water was in there out.

“shit, wake up, you’re scaring me.” he breathed, somewhat in the man’s ear. now, up close, he noticed how handsome he was, in a boyish way. his freckles added to the fact, and he had to look away considering he was in wet pants and making it any more noticeable could be disastrous, as the man was leaning against him. he wet his lips, which was pointless considering they were already wet, and his hand reached up to cradle the back of his head, reminding him of how endangered this man was at the moment, how vulnerable. he didn’t quite intend on it, but his cheek was slightly pressed against the side of his head, listening for his breathing. “this is taking too much time. shit, wake up.”

his people were oblivious, all the healers occupied by something or other, so luca did the last possible thing he could think of. he’d heard of it before, and as he laid caine out, he began with careful chest compressions, and when no reaction ensued, he gulped his fear. as he’d been taught, he tilted caine’s head back slightly, lowering his head now to blow a breath into the mouth.

[Di]

In the blackness, there was only one point of light—the moon above the lake he had fallen in—but Caine could no longer make his limbs move, couldn't swim, couldn't breathe…

Shit…I’m dying…

Falling, falling…down, down, down…

…What…

Further, further into blackness, when a shadow covered the circle of light…

... What is that?

The first thing he felt was cold and then sick. As he half-coughed, half-retched, Caine rolled to the side facing away from his savior to cough up whatever water he had inhaled. He couldn't figure out why he was in this state and then he remembered: the argument with his master, leaving the castle, tripping into the water, sinking into the depths with a question on his lips. "Wh… Wh-wh-wha-what…" Caine managed as he tried to speak, his teeth chattering. He shook unconsciously, every part of him painfully frozen. Regina waters were not temperature friendly. His lungs hurt to breathe and his extremities were beginning to numbly sting, but Caine was alive and he let out a shaky few breaths. Moving onto his hands and knees to try and regain a better grip on his quaking body, placing a hand over his chest.

Whatever he was looking for, he found it: a rapid, but concrete heartbeat drumming against his hand. “I-I’m… I’m okay…” He said aloud, his eyes focused on the grass beneath him. His quivering mouth ( it was so odd; while his body was frozen to the bone, his lips were tingling with warmth) quirked into a smile. “I’m alive.” Bouts of giggles began to bubble out of his mouth, before Caine body’s racked with full-out laughter. His stomach hurt and his lungs felt like they were made out of iron, but he didn’t care. He was alive! He didn’t know how it was possible or what had happened, but if he got to live another day, it didn’t matter how he was brought back from death.

Slowly, Caine’s gales of laughter died down to soft chuckling. “God, Caine… You’re a moron,” he thought aloud. He clutched a hand over his aggravated stomach, wiping the tears from his eyes as he sat back on his knees. As he exhaled the last of his hysteria, he moved his hands onto his knees, looking about. Now that his head was clearing, Caine’s curiosity began to plague his thoughts. But, how was he saved? Surely he didn’t save himself. He couldn’t swim to save his life, literally. Caine’s eyes widened. The shadow… His gaze searched the perimeter, looking for any creature, until his gaze finally landed on a tall, muscular man nearly looming over him. Caine shouted at the stranger, crawling backwards until he fell onto his bum, which was occurring quite a bit today. Caine then flushed, realizing how unmanly that yelp might have sounded.

“U-Um…” Caine started when his voice cracked and cleared his throat. For some odd reason, Caine had a hard time maintaining eye contact. Not just because the man seem rather intimidating (he seemed like a toothpick compared to the muscles this man had) but because his eye kept drifting to his apparently shirtless chest. Caine reddened even further, hiding his face by shaking any water droplets out of his hair, then willing himself to meet the man’s gaze. His hands subconsciously traveled to his soaked tunic, wringing the bottom out of nervousness. “Did… Did you save me?”

[ollie]

luca watched him almost curiously, the man seeming instantly revived by his life (ironically). he didn’t say anything, listening to his fits of giggles as well as his exclamations of joy, glancing over at his wolf. she seemed to have a look that was just as quizzical as his, before returning his gaze. his eyebrow quirked and now, finally, the man’s eyes landed on him. he yelped, falling back on his bum, and luca didn’t find it so much as amusing as odd. reginiens were odd people; they were either fierce or frail, few in between. but he liked the redhead, from how frail he was to his fiery hair. and where else is he fiery? he smirked, noticing his eyes flicking to his chest, hardly at all objecting. actually, he was doing no such thing.

“did… did you save me?” he finally asked, and he quirked a smile. savior. i like that idea… saviors get favors.

he shrugged his muscled shoulders, smiling seductively despite his mock humility. “if you’d like to consider me that. i just got you out of the water, nothing special,” his smooth voice said otherwise—that he owed him much, either out of true debt or out of desire was for caine’s own interpretation. he reached a large hand out, obviously to shake, though gypsies scarcely used the manors. luca had recently been taught in the ways of the reginien and silian royalty, only because they tended to be such sticklers for it. he stood, his wolf doing the same at his side, shaking out her shaggy fur and looking up at him wonderingly.

“i’m luca. king of all gypsies,” he said, reaching a hand down and, whether or not caine wanted him to, pulling him onto his feet. he smiled still, unperturbed by whether or not caine was homosexual. he’d seduced heterosexuals, too, and the vibes this man was giving off did not say that he was remotely uninterested. “i can get you dry clothes. my caravan is that way.” he added, voice somewhat husky.

[Di]

“If you’d like to consider me that. I just got you out of the water, nothing special,” the oh-so humble stranger replied.

Caine’s face fell at the undertones of that statement. What, was this guy trying to give him a guilt trip? Caine scoffed at his faux-humility. He tried to ignore the guilt that weighed his shoulders down, pushing it to the back of his mind. However, guilt was a persistent magic. Intangible, but always there. Caine had to fight a scowl back to keep a collect composure. When he offered his hand, Caine couldn’t find the arm strength to meet it. In all honestly, formalities didn’t matter to him. He worked in a kitchen since he was eight with Jean Bruno. Formalities were considered frivolous by his master compared to the perfection of a roasted duck or the making of a croissant.

“I’m Luca. King of all gypsies,” the gypsy finally announced.

“I’m Cai-Hey!” Caine protested as Luca pulled him to his feet, with one hand nonetheless. Am I honestly that weak compared to him? Caine overlooked Luca’s arm muscles, watching his biceps flex nicely as he helped him—NO. Nonono. I never asked for his help. More like he yanked me around. After some struggle of pulling out of Lyca’s grip, Caine grasped the bottom of his soaking tunic, adjusting it with what little dignity he had left. “Caine. I’m Caine,” he repeated, squaring off his shoulders.

“I can get you dry clothes. My caravan is that way.”

A shiver ran down Caine’s spine—it was the wind, naturally—after Luca’s proposal. Caine frowned, already not liking where this was going. Caine was stalling in his soaking boots, pretending to be uninterested in warmth rather than admit the gooseflesh that had taken over his freckled skin. He wasn't sure what he would do, not trusting himself at this time. The redhead wanted to thank Luca sincerely, he really did. But the fact that he was now in debt to the gypsy because of a guilt trip kept him from doing so. Despite how crass he was, Luca was offering clothes. And the last thing any person wanted—whether gypsy, Silian, Reginien, whoever— was to catch an illness. “Fine,” Caine answered through gritted teeth. “Lead the way,” Caine mumbled, waving his arms in a chevalier manner.

[ollie]

luca smiled when he said yes, snapping his finger sat his wolf. the female snatched up his shirt as he grabbed his circlet, putting it on his head with accustomed ease, leading him into the camp so calmly it was startling that he could be royalty. he leaned in, kissing the top of the head of the boy that had been crowned king, the lily pad clutched in his little hands. he was dozing and was in the arms of a voodoo woman, but she was a completely compassionate creature that lacked most gypsy morals. luca stopped an artfully decorated caravan, painted with gold and browns and greens, blue trimming it for the lake.

he opened it, glancing behind him with a slight smile, leaving the door open for caine and closing it behind them once he was in. “fit for a king, no?” he asked lightly. it was true; the caravan was spacious but crammed, lined with cabinets for food and clothes, a bed taking up half of it, looking soft and well made, probably from down of some sort of expensive bird. it was covered with silk sheets and velvet slips, making a sort of bedding collage, and there was a stray skirt hanging over a bedpost. the sign of a late conquest: one from some faraway princess he’d bedded and left on her border. he heard she had been disowned.

he opened his door, reaching his head out. “can someone come in to dress this man? i have to change as well,” he said coolly, as if they had known each other for years. a woman stepped up, entering without any remorse. he slipped off his circlet, propping it on a bejeweled chest, handing a set of clothes to the woman before rummaging for his own clothes. back to caine and the woman, he slid off his pants without qualms of his nudity (which he was nude: gypsies almost never wore underclothes) and shook out the pants, pulling them on calmly.

luca glanced over his shoulder, checking that caine had new pants on. when he found he was, he nodded to the woman. “you can go. no need to waste time when you can be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice almost completely void of emotion. the woman nodded, smiling at him though he didn’t notice, his eyes on caine. she let herself out, closing the door behind her. a shirt with excessive ties had been chosen, and since it hadn’t yet been tied up, luca began working on it, hands moving deftly to slide the ties through the holes up the front of the shirt, lacing it without really thinking about it.

he glanced at caine’s face before looking back at his hands, knowing that occasionally his fingertips brushed the other man’s bare torso. “the gypsy life is an extravagant one, especially royalty. i’ve been searching for the one to share the throne with me, but… i have yet to find someone in my taste and as interested as i am,” he said. his taste—caine fit that perfectly, from how sweet he looked to his red hair and freckles. curiously, he paused in lacing the shirt, reaching up to brush the man’s cheek with his thumb, as if the abundant freckles would come away like stardust on the finger’s pad. he smirked, enjoying the contact with his warm skin.

“are you employed? i could set you up in camp… or at my side.” he said softly, the voice easily a purr, a seductive suggestion that luca hoped he would accept. because he wanted this man in his bed, badly, and it showed.

[Di]

For some odd reason, Caine was moderately shocked that Luca would wander into his campsite shirtless. Why, he did not know. He was a gypsy after all. It just seemed like a norm in their small society. The redhead never had any encounters with his people before. He had always been tied to either his station in the palace kitchen, or the market place whenever Jean Bruno needed to barter with the farmers to get the first pick of vegetables. But he hadn’t seen any trace of them. Until now, that is. They seemed so carefree, dancing, hugging, and being in such close contact with complete strangers. The fact that Luca kissed a small village boy (who was in the hands of a woman who wasn’t his mother, nonetheless!) caused a momentary pause in his pace behind the King. When he thought about it, the gesture was rather intimate of the gypsy king until Caine discovered a faint smile tugging at his lips. Slapping his face, Caine trudged on to catch up with Luca, grumbling about common sense under his breath.

Caine stared at the caravan. At Luca’s question, Caine only grunted and followed after him wordlessly, finding the farthest corner from Luca as humanly possible; he wasn't taking any chances.

“Can someone come in to dress this man? I have to change as well.”

And apparently, he wasn’t given the benefit of the doubt.

“Wh-what?” Caine practically squeaked, casting the woman a horrified glance as she stepped into the room. As she took the clothes from Luca, Caine shook his head as she approach. “Uh, no-no. It’s alright, I can dress myself,” he insisted as he grabbed the pants that draped over her arm at the same time as he kicked off his boots. He hastily changed from his wet breeches and practically jumped into the pants Luca had offered. As Caine fastened the pants, he realized that even on his waist, the trousers hung loosely on him. The woman giggled at Caine yanked the shirt over his head and abandoning it on the floor. The woman opened the shirt for Caine, and as he turned around to shove his arms through the sleeves, he suddenly found himself frozen in place.

Luca was changing. Luca was changing in the same room, why was Luca changing in the same room as him? A blush rose to his face, yet his embarrassment was soon forgotten. Instead, Caine fixated his gaze on Luca’s back and the muscles that shifted so surely underneath his skin. His gaze slowly drifted down his back when he realized Luca was changing pants (ignoring the fact that he had indeed caught an eyeful of the gypsy’s backside). His face positively red, Caine stared at the floor. He could hear the vague sounds of Luca moving around and settling into his own pants, and then only silence. Caine attempted to focus on the wretched ties on his shirt, oblivious that the woman had left until Luca was standing right in front of him. He was sure to pass out from excessive blushing.

“The gypsy life is an extravagant one, especially royalty. I’ve been searching for the one to share the throne with me, but… I have yet to find someone in my taste and as interested as I am.”

In order to maintain the façade of calm, Caine nodded nonchalantly at the words that were spoken. Caine’s main concern was that his heart thumped quickly in the caravan; so loud he was sure Luca could hear it as his fingers deftly fastened the shirt at an agonizing speed. He tried to breathe quietly in his anxiety, but the space was smaller than even he had anticipated, and however much he leaned away from him, he found that his back would be pressed against the wall. The distinct feel of Luca's fingers against his torso caused his stomach to ripple under his touch. Caine was shivering by the time Luca cupped his cheek—he could no longer blame the cold— and fluttering his eyes shut, he could feel his breathing, the warm puffs of air the fluttered against his face when Luca exhaled, getting closer and hotter with every passing second…

“Are you employed? I could set you up in camp… or at my side.”

He didn’t comprehend what Luca was saying, only what he was doing. The air in the caravan seemed to be getting closer by the minute, the silence expanding in the cramped room, and now Caine could feel Luca’s fingers moving, some of them drifting towards the skin behind his ear. Caine’s eyes shot open as horrific realization dawned on him. NO! He practically thrashed out of Luca’s hand, trying very hard to gain some distance between them with a desperation he didn't know he possessed. He needed to stay focused. He needed to keep Luca back.

Shaking his head dazedly, Luca answered softly, “Actually I am—“ Oh wait, that’s right. “I just recently abandoned my apprenticeship. My master was not the most bearable man on Earth.” Why was he even telling Luca this? Why was he asking all of these questions? When the end note finally registered, Caine finally regained full function over his mind. His eyes flashed dangerously and his hands balled into fists. “Wait. You want me to sleep with you? Not bloody likely,” He spat. So that’s what this whole ordeal was about. A sexual release for him.I figured as much. He scoffed, nose crinkling at the thought of almost falling for his act.

[ollie]

luca had always been a charmer. he had always understood how any single person’s mind worked, how to get in it, but this time he seemed to have found the one he had to work for. there was something that could be said for a man as stubborn as caine, that wanted to hold so closely to his fake values. men at war would succumb quicker than the redhead, and as he watched caine’s eyes close, his body relaxing in their closeness, luca could feel his chance coming, fleeting and quickly. it was too fleeting, unfortunately: luca had not made the best move, not quickly enough either, because caine was out of his grasp within a moment. damn, bastard’s a persistent one. despite himself and his conquest, a flash of anger sparked in his eyes, no doubt directed towards this stubborn man.

this would require a crown. swallowing his anger, for fear it would chase off the already flighty man, luca turned to the crowns in one of the cabinets. it was a stunning beast of gold, carving a war scene around it, spikes coming from the sculpture like rays of light from the sun. he’d taken it straight off the head of one of his many victims, harvesting it for whenever the occasion would need it. it just so happened, this was the occasion.

luca strode towards caine, eyes not wavering from the crown, turning it in his hands with mute reverence. when he stopped, the only thing that stood between them was the crown, which was about the size of the top of someone’s head, naturally. his eyes met caine’s, his gaze unwavering and blunt. “my lover would be the king of all gypsies alongside me, if it were to be you. he would have so many jewels given to him he could bathe in them, countless horses to ride, be able to buy his own reginien chef, and have his own harem of women to birth an heir. and, of course, he would have my love and devotion.” this was a tricky situation to use: he was both putting his feelings out there and selling them, which made them feel like a façade just to bed the man. that wasn't the case, and that was luca's problem. he was putting himself out there in ways he never really did, venturing out of his territory just to have this man as his king.

now, came the crown. he raised it up, stepping forward, and placed it upon caine’s head gingerly. it was a somewhat heavy crown for most people, considering the amount of gold used, and once he was satisfied that it sat right in his red hair, he lowered his hands. but this was the trickiest part: with a smooth movement he had his hands on either side of caine’s shoulders, palms flush against the wall, and moved his knee to spread caine’s legs, resting that against the wall as well. his head dipped forward, lips near caine’s ear as he spoke. “i’ve been looking for someone like you my whole time as king. you’re stubborn, persistent, feisty… and you have such beautiful red hair. someone like you doesn’t just come through my camp every day, and i can’t just stand by and let you go.” his voice was hushed and sincere, because there wasn't an ounce of deceit in his words. he wanted caine, badly, and he knew it showed; but at the same time, he wanted it to show. he wanted the redhead see how much he would do for him, how much he was willing to give to him and take from others just to have him in his bed and at his side, more than he had ever wanted anything.

luca swallowed. his stomach was twisting in a knot, because he could very easily be wrong about him and the man could quickly turn out heartless. but luca didn’t believe caine was remotely heartless, and he certainly was not spineless. “gypsies begin with making love, then go through courtship. we’re a… backwards people to most, but i can assure you that these are how our customs work and i am not tricking you. i am intoxicated by you, love, just say yes and i can show you every way i know how.” there was a husky rumble by the end of that, the lust imposing on his words, and he just about had enough with this horrible predicament. it was ridiculous, that people had to go through all of this to get someone to lie with them, to find their vulnerable side and have them there for a night. he scarcely hurt the people he bedded; they always returned, though none for more than sex, and he wanted so badly for caine to be the one that slept in his bed for more than just a night.

luca licked his lips, moving away from caine’s ear, face to face with the intoxicating redhead. he was taller than him, though, and had to somewhat look down to the man. he didn’t care, though, and kissed his forehead, then his nose. “if you’re not careful with that nose, you might permanently wrinkle a perfect shape,” he breathed, desire thick in his tone. the hand at caine’s right moved upward, off the wall, to mold to the nape of the man’s neck. gingerly, his fingers spread, heel of his hand against the side of his neck, and gently he tilted the man’s head back. his lips lowered to caine’s, surprisingly gentle, wanting the redhead to bring the rest of the kiss.

[Di]

Caine will admit it: despite his own resentment towards Luca at the moment, he was rather intimidating when he glared back at him. He braced himself for the possible retaliation to his resistance, but the strike never came. Luca walked away to the cabinet, leaving Caine bewildered as he approached, this time with a crown in his hands. When Luca looked up, Caine couldn’t help but physically wince at the intensity of his gaze; it was like he was staring right into his core. However, his own eyes appeared… well, Caine could only describe it as frightened. Vulnerable, even.

“My lover would be the king of all gypsies alongside me, if it were to be you. He would have so many jewels given to him he could bathe in them, countless horses to ride, be able to buy his own Reginien chef, and have his own harem of women to birth an heir. And, of course, he would have my love and devotion.”

Caine sputtered. Not in spite, but rather in disbelief. A lover? A king? Of gypsies? All of these spoils he was offering him, were just so Caine would lie with him? Why would he even go through the trouble? Caine felt as though he was no one special. He was certainly treated that way his whole life. After both his parents had died from illness, he was taken under the wing of Jean Bruno. And to be honest, he was as good at being a fatherly figure as he was being a patient mentor. He was invisible to the other chefs, except when he screwed up, and almost all of the village girls laughed at his pathetic attempts to woo them. However, because he was invisible, he didn’t feel like he had anyone to impress. He didn’t want anything, and could get by with what he had. How could this gypsy (this king of thieves and dream weavers) win him over if he didn’t care for any of those materialistic things?

His head dipped from a weight on his head. Eyes wide, Caine’s shaky hand rose up to touch the side of the crown now perched against his fiery hair. Caine’s lungs forced out a ragged breath, his heart leaping strangely, like it was doing cartwheels within his chest. Luca took a step forward. His chest bumped into Caine's. Caine, panicking, tried to back away, but Luca's arms shot out, lean and strong, and held him fast. His knee was closer than Caine would’ve liked, and he almost lifted to his toes, trying vainly to escape the limb. And when his lips neared his ear, Caine grew rigid. His mind was trapped in a flurry of panic as he shivered involuntarily, feeling the blood rushing to his head. Luca was so close…he could feel every breath, every word…

“I’ve been looking for someone like you my whole time as king. You’re stubborn, persistent, feisty… and you have such beautiful red hair. Someone like you doesn’t just come through my camp every day, and I can’t just stand by and let you go.”

Caine felt his mouth form the word beautiful as he looked up at Luca inquisitively, which was his strong cheek bones from where he stood. It wasn’t just how Luca complimented his hair, but how he complimented all of him so subtly. His few redeeming qualities seemed to be so heavily treasured by this man. The crown felt like it was gaining weight on his head. It seemed to be more of a token of affection rather than a materialistic item. And it didn’t help that Luca was practically kissing his ear. His body like it was on fire. Is he trying to kill me?!

“Gypsies begin with making love, then go through courtship. We’re a… backwards people to most, but I can assure you that these are how our customs work and I am not tricking you. I am intoxicated by you, love, just say yes and I can show you every way I know how.”

His knees almost gave out at the timbre of his voice. Luca was a man with nothing to hide, was he? Caine nodded, then quickly shook his head, and then nodded again before he simply shrugged. He was so confused, and the breath against his neck was sending excited electric shocks through his system, further paralyzing the poor redhead. He honestly couldn’t help but believe that Luca was telling the truth. He could practically feel him swallow; Caine gulped audibly himself. Yet even if Luca was preparing to give Caine the world, would he feel right taking that, abandoning all of his values, and even returning the feelings to a stranger?

Caine couldn’t fight the disappointment that his eyes gave away as Luca pulled back. Even at the height that was four inches short of six feet, Luca loomed over him. But no longer did he feel intimidated. “If you’re not careful with that nose, you might permanently wrinkle a perfect shape.” Caine was about to retort with a grumpy comment not to boss him around, when he felt his chin being lifted up, and his protest cut off with a kiss. Caine instinctively leaned backwards in retreat, his bright eyes wide with surprise. Caine's mind told him to push the stranger away and run, but his body was deciding to be disobedient and stayed as Caine face tilted into Luca’s hand (treacherous, treacherous body!).

Caine felt dizzy. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen, because this kiss was, not only his first, but seemingly endless. Caine responded tentatively, still not sure of what to do. He hadn't exactly had a lot of…experience in this area during his nineteen years of existence in the world. And here was this stranger-but-not, kissing him and talking to him their future as long-time lovers. But it would be a downright lie if Caine said he didn’t like it. But, that's didn't stop him from pulling away. "Okay," Caine announced a little too loudly, laughing nervously as he tried to escape Luca's hold, "that's enough for one day." Poor Caine didn't know how wrong he was.

[ollie]

luca’s body was on fire. he felt like there was not enough of caine to satisfy him, not possibly enough for him to ravish, and when the man pressed himself harder against the wall and pulled his lips away, it left luca… hungry. his eyes opened, darkened with lust, imploring caine’s own for a reason behind this. his lips were still partly open, as he wasn’t at all ready to end the kiss nor did he feel like it ever should end, and he didn’t even attempt to move away. a noise between a growl and a groan left his lips and he shook his head silently, closing the gap again by catching his lips in a greedier kiss. his body pressed flush against caine’s, filling whatever gaps there were, and he could feel the heartbeat through caine’s skin.

his hands moved back on the ties, though this time he lost all interest in doing them up. he untied them as easily as he had done them, sliding the shirt off the frailer man’s shoulders. he leaned back, eyes still hazy, and his hands gently roamed caine’s torso, running along the freckles. “you’re staying in my bed for the rest of eternity, if i have any say in it,” he said, voice still as low as before, lips lowering to his jaw. they trailed a path up, his tongue flicking out to lick the edge of his jaw before luca kissed his earlobe. again his tongue flicked out, licking behind his ear, sucking on his earlobe the next moment. “i want you in my bed, now,” he breathed, and this time his voice was entirely a growl, completely animal.

there was something to be said for a man that drove luca so wild. he had of course had been lustful before, and had wanted things just out of reach. but caine wasn’t simply just out of his reach; he was something untouched, unsoiled, and it made luca feel both proud and important knowing that he was the first to have something so… pure. to have him as his, to have him at his side… the mere idea evoked this fire in luca, and made him even more brutish than usual. typically, he wasn’t pulling people around or seducing them so outright, but there was something that about caine that made luca so desperately extreme, so desperately flamboyant to impress him, like some ludicrous peacock. and no matter how many times he might sleep with women for an heir, he would come to bed to caine every night and knew that it was true for only him. which meant he had to have him.

luca wasted no time in proving his point, wrapping an arm around caine and effortlessly put him on the bed. it unsettled the crown, which tumbled onto the ground, but he didn’t even acknowledge it, hovering over caine on his hands and knees. he grinned, one hand threading into his hair, the other holding him up as he somewhat pulled caine’s head up to kiss him, this one (believe it or not) more animalistic than before. again his lips traveled the length of his jaw, the opposite side, and again he licked behind his ear, this time spending more time sucking his earlobe. “my king,” he breathed, moving onto his elbows, one of his hands running along caine’s freckled side.

[Di]

When Caine pulled back for a split second, his gaze landed on Luca’s eyes, and something in his throat snagged his breath. There was something about his eyes; how carnal and desperate they looked. Even in the darkness of the caravan, they seemed to sparkle. Caine was drowning in their depth, their beauty, and at the same time, he was being scorched by their intensity. Although he was frightened, Caine felt a thrill rack his spine as Luca growled, stealing another possessive kiss. Caine gasped against his lips when he felt the space diminishing between them, leaving only the feel of Luca’s warm body against his. Luca’s touch was gloriously numbing. His deft fingers working on removing his shirt sent tendrils of fire down Caine’s body. Everything he did seemed to have that effect on him. His fingers skating over his stomach made him squirm, causing the shirt falling to the ground.

“You’re staying in my bed for the rest of eternity, if I have any say in it.”

Caine couldn’t protest as Luca’s lips returned to him—his jaw, more specifically towards his ear — too breathless to form words. By the time Luca had licked the back of his ear, it was too late. Eyes wide, Caine whimpered loudly, knowing his own expression now mirrored that of Luca's. It wasn't something he could control. Luca had found The Spot. Caine was a slave to his arousal coursing more forcefully through his body. When he had the unfortunate counter with a prostitute near the entrance of the Brothel (a booth of onions was set nearby) he had discovered that such a spot left him become completely defenseless. He didn't know why; it just happened. However, he had managed to flee despite his wobbling knees at that time. He'd never felt anything like this. It was hot and bright, a searing streak of electricity that crackled almost audibly through the air. It singed his skin, but didn't leave a scar. It burned him, but it didn't hurt. It just felt good. Some word that started with a p– and ended with –assion glimmered ephemerally through his mind, and he couldn't grasp it in time to put it together. He figured Luca was to blame.

“I want you in my bed, now.”

Caine didn’t dare find it in him to object. He just shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around Luca’s neck as he was carried. Only when his back met the plush of the bed did he look up at that grin of his future lover. Caine smirked back, still unsure of where this confidence was coming from, but there it was. As his head was pulled in towards Luca, Caine responded to his kiss with immediate fervor without trembling. A moan bubbled out of his mouth as Luca gave his other ear the same affection. His hands were twining the hair at the back of Luca’s head, spooling it around his fingers. Caine pressed closer to him, if at all possible, his head dizzy from the sensations (and probably lack of air). Caine could feel his face was burning red as he gasped Luca’s name encouragingly to continue his ministrations. But for once, Caine didn’t give a damn how he sounded.

“My king.”

Caine looked up at Luca. There was a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t be silenced; his ears were probably beet red. His eyes twinkled as for the first time that night; he smiled a truly content smile. The thought of being Luca’s lover wasn’t so upsetting now that he was experiencing the prospect first-hand. Caine would forever be eternally grateful for falling into Lake Regina because of this moment. His heart was racing, his breathing so shallow he didn't think even twenty breaths could compensate for a single normal one. “Luca,” Caine whispered in return, tilting his head back as he shivered against Luca’s hand caressing him.

[ollie]

luca moaned softly when he heard his name, returning his mouth to caine’s. it was killing him, that he was taking so long, but he wanted to build himself up, wanted to be able to brand caine as his once and for all. he kissed caine’s bottom lip, as if on a passing thought. “caine,” he breathed, voice merely a rumble in his throat. luca’s lips lowered, trailing down the middle of caine’s throat, licking his collar bone though continuing on. he glanced up at caine before closing his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, the muscles beneath the skin he was kissing. playfully, he licked his belly button, glancing up again before kissing just below his navel, returning to caine’s mouth to kiss him deeper.

“you’re mine.” he breathed, pushing himself up to look at him, eyes on his. “you will always be mine, i will always be yours. no turning back after tonight, love.” he kissed him again, but this time there was more intent, more emotion than desire. he moaned, hands squeezing his hips. finally mine.

---

in the morning, luca was holding caine. his head was burrowed into the nook between his shoulder and neck, an arm around his middle and one of his legs entangled with both of his lover’s. he sighed in his sleep, eyes blinking open, taking a few moments to register the sight. the hair of fire, the freckled ear, the smell of lusty sweat hanging in the air. he shifted, smiling softly as the bare skin of his knee ran along the back of the redhead’s thigh. “wake up, my king,” he breathed, rolling over caine to face him, eyes roaming his face. his hands twisted into his hair, holding him in place as he kissed him gently; a good morning kiss, so to speak.

“you slept well, i assume?” he wondered, pulling away and loosening his grip to look him in the face. he didn’t wait long, though, climbing over caine again but this time to get out of bed, not reaching for a single article of clothing as he went through the food. he looked over his shoulder at caine before finding a prepared breakfast. it was pie, actually: made for him the night before, and while it had cooled, the pumpkin pie was still as delicious as it had been the minute it’d come to him from the baker’s daughter.

finding a fork, he returned to bed, pulling the sheets around his waist. holding the pie, he cut off a pie with the side of the fork, popping the piece in his mouth before cutting off another piece. he held it out to caine, smiling flirtatiously. “have a bite. i’ve never had such good harvest pie,” he said simply, swallowing his own bite.

[/justify][/size]

[Di]

“Wake up, my king.”

Caine sighed as he felt himself slowly start to stir from his sleep. He knew that voice. A tiny part of his subconscious knew that voice was meant for him, but for the life of him, couldn’t remember why. And then, it all came flooding back. Jean Bruno. Lake Regina. Drowning. Luca. Kiss. Caine groaned. His eyelids clamped down tighter, trying to banish the beginnings of a colossal headache as he tightened his grip on Luca’s shoulders. If he knew this was a morning for revelations, he would have rather gone back to sleep. Luca, so warm and solidly molded against his figure shifted, a soft whine expressing his disapproval. His plea was answered as he felt something cover his mouth to silence further protests. Luca's face filled his vision, kissing him so tenderly Caine thought he would melt. Caine stared at his flawless face, captivated. He was so close he could see every pore, and not a hint of a blemish, not even one lousy spot… Luca’s lips were soft and warm from sleep, and Caine let him kiss him eagerly, moaning happily as he slung his arms back around Luca’s shoulders.

“You slept well, I assume?”

Gazing up at the dark-haired man through half-lidded eyes, Caine only managed a soft nod. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up onto his elbows lazily, curious as to where Luca was going. It was utterly unsurprising how graceful Luca was. Even in the nude, he moved across the room with a purpose. Which was fine by Caine. Especially considering how, ahem… well-endowed his lover was. The redhead felt his face warm when Luca cast a glance in his direction. However, that didn’t stop him from looking. Caine studied the other man carefully: admiring the shape to his face, the strength of his muscles, and the strong structure of his jaw; then focusing on the smaller details, like the thick strands of his dark hair and the way he held himself. Caine noted the dull scratches on Luca’s back, no doubt caused by him from last night. His eyes crossed momentarily as he remembered the events that transpired last night. Touching his swollen lips tenderly with two fingertips, he smiled hesitantly, a contrast to his burning ears.

Caine rubbed his eyes and stretched. Noting that Luca was returning, Caine pushed himself to sit up, the sheets falling to his hips. Colors invaded his sight, causing him to sway as his head felt weighted by vertigo. Forcing his eyes to adjust, he glanced about until his equilibrium found itself again. By that time, Luca had shifted back into bed, and he naturally shifted to make room for him. Come to think of it, Caine had never slept with another person in his bed before. It wasn't cramped, like he thought it would be, but very comfortable. It was intimate, that was for sure, something Caine had never experienced. But in time, he could grow used to it, if it was Luca. Leaving his reverie, he focused on what Luca had brought to bed. Caine couldn’t help but snort lightly with amusement. Pumpkin pie for breakfast. How utterly Luca of him.

“Have a bite. I’ve never had such good harvest pie.”

An eyebrow quirked in response, smiling incredulously at his offer. A faint blush dusted beneath his freckled cheeks betrayed his amusement at Luca’s alluring smile. Damn. What a charmer Luca was. Although he couldn’t deny his ravenous appetite as his stomach growled with anticipation and decided he would bite, literally. Leaning in to pop the pumpkin pie into his mouth, Caine almost swooned. “It is good,” Caine agreed, chewing vigorously as though it was his first meal in days before swallowing. He licked his lips, missing a few crumbs that hid in the corners of his mouth. “S-so…” Caine started awkwardly, flushing again as his eyes danced away from his gaze, “last night…” He cleared his throat. “It was, u-uh… good.” He knew that was an understatement if he ever heard one, but he figure Luca would understand. He just couldn’t bring himself to give off details for fear of lapsing into a sheepish tizzy.

[ollie]

“s-so…” luca didn’t look up, eating the pie without much conviction. it was fantastic; made by a northern chef his people had taken home with them, not as a captive. he looked up at caine, pausing when he noticed his expression. he looked like he’d swallowed something poisonous, not in a nauseous way but in a conflicted one. he already knew what he was talking about. “last night…” he smiled as caine finally said it, and shifted in his seat, stifling the chuckle rising in his throat. it was odd to him how modest caine was; he hardly knew what to do without spooking his new king. king. the word was so delicious he wanted to say it, but said nothing as caine rambled on. setting aside the pie, he leaned in when caine said the word good.

“that was hardly my best, love,” he breathed, closing the distance and kissing him. it was a hungry, lustful kiss, somewhat all-consuming, and he groaned softly as he pressed himself closer, pushing caine on his back. when he pulled back his eyes were dark but shining, a soft smile on his lips. he wasn’t really implying sex; truly he was just implying how interested he was, his hands gingerly catching his new lover’s, linking their fingers. lying next to him, he let go of one of his hands to wrap a muscled arm around his waist. “i’m glad you’re my king. i’m glad i get to have you. i’m especially glad that you fell in the lake.” he said softly, almost sweetly, leaning over and kissing down his redheaded lover’s neck. he raised his eyes when there was a knock on the door, an aggravated growl coming from his throat. “a minute, please!” he called, standing and pulling on his discarded pants, going to the caravan’s door.

opening it, the person standing there was obviously not a gypsy—a rather proper looking middle-aged man with the air of a doctor, as luca had recently grown accustomed to. his stomach sank and he swallowed hard. “is it about zenda?” he said quietly, glancing back at caine before looking at the doctor.

the man nodded. “you may want to join her. she’s gotten worse and i’m not certain if it’s only temporary, or… i really don’t know. i wish i could tell you. this disease is tearing her open—she’s staying strong, somewhat, but only when people come. her maids say she looks almost gray when people leave…” he sighed, shaking his head and looking down at his feet. “i worry that she will make it but her body will be too impaired for you to travel with her. you may want to make this your permanent camp; rule from a stationed place, rather than constantly move. i don’t know what else to tell you, king luca. i hardly know anything to do.” he looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. finally, he clapped luca on the shoulder, eyes grave, though said nothing as he stepped away. he paused as he was walking, turning around and frowning.

“she told me to ask you to bring lotuses and lilies. i’m not sure if that means something… it’s simply what she was asking of you. and she says hello, and sends you love,” he said, frowning before waving and leaving the camp. luca closed the door, rubbing his face and leaning back against the door. zenda’s getting weak. the people can’t know this. they can’t see the doctor coming to tell me these things.

luca swallowed hard, straightening and looking at caine. “i hope you still have your things at the castle,” he said plainly, “because we have to return. my sister is ill and i have to stay by her. my people can’t know and… if you are truly my king, you will share my bed with me even in the castle.” he added in the last part without thinking, pulling out a chest and beginning to pack it. “i’ll tell them i need to talk about politics, so they don’t worry, but otherwise they won’t know.”