tampered | Log; complete

Log; complete

When; April 10th, morning
Rating; PG-13 for violence and Cori's mouth
Characters; The Corinthian

playstheblues
Summary; Blue and Cori need to get some excercise in;
Log;

Blue was stretching. It was a vital and key role in him not getting tight or injuring himself, and one he did before any sparring session, even if in a real battle it wasn't an actual option. He raised his arms over his head and stretched, enjoying the feeling of his muscles expanding.

He looked over at the white nightmare who was casually smoking next to the Vespa. It would figure that he never prepared, but there were advantages to being made of sand. Blue pulled a sword out of his cloak. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asked.

It wasn't usual that Cori asked him to spar. The nightmare was really too lazy to give much care to practicing, even though Blue did a full sword dance every morning before breakfast and sparred with others regularly. He was still sore from the previous day, a bruise against his temple evidence of sparring with Jack. Only Jack didn't care enough to go after his face. Everyone else avoided that.

He loosened up and waited for Cori.

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Now there was a nice view. Cori appreciated the sight of Boy Blue's stretching form. His own laziness was a virtue, it allowed others to underestimate him. That was a perfectly efficient tactic... or something. He puffed the smoke through his teetheyes then tossed the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with his toe.

"I'm up for it. Are you implying I'm out of shape?"

Cori asked with a grin as he took up his own blade, a wider but shorter sword than the one he'd used to fight Ophelia. He looped his other arm through a shield with that same lazy quality of movement that belied his stealthy fighting nature. It wasn't laziness per se; the Corinthian felt comfortable in Blue's company! Of course, the bruise to his temple did little to comfort him. It wasn't the injury but the fact that Blue had been turning to Jack for practice, when he had a nightmare he could turn to at any time! ... Except when he was being lazy.

"Come on," he encouraged the bugle boy, his knees bending and his shoulders still loose, but now Cori had a little gleam to his teeth.

Blue never underestimated Cori, but it was Blue's usual tactic to never underestimate anyone. He had gone to the Homelands fully expecting that he would fail, and that he would die. It had been luck and cunning, not to mention magical armor, that had kept him alive. He pulled his own shield from his cloak and shook his head.

"You're not out of shape," he said, "You just don't usually decide you want to spar. You've been acting a little funny lately."

He noticed these thing because no one else did; he knew his nightmare through and through. He only went to Jack to spar if the other man asked him to, or if he thought that Cori would turn him down. Then there was a part of him that remembered that Cori had been stupid just after Blue asked him to go for a spar, and so he secretly kept that away from Cori as a reason not to ask him. He never wanted to go through that again.

He eased into his stance. "Do you think you can take me?" he grinned; then lunged forward with an easy thrust.

Cori had no intention of repeating that incident. He really did feel as if he'd been neglecting Blue's need for a sparring venue, and thus the blond had been turning to Jack or maybe even that Prince Charming fellow. Considering the looming possibility of return, he felt like maximizing all the time with Blue he had left.

"Define funny," he asked, not because he doubted Blue but because the Corinthian's idea of funny was telling distasteful jokes. He hadn't told one of those since Lux.

"I can definitely take you," said the nightmare as he sidestepped the thrust and parried with a cutting slash from his own sword.

There were days that Blue didn't want to leave the house; he just wanted to stay half-buried underneath the nightmare, not leave his presence. Another part of him wanted to be away from Cori as much as he could without going crazy. He knew he would have to leave, and he was terrified that if he didn't get at least a little used to it, he would never adjust. That was why he had taken on so many extra jobs lately.

But the idea of leaving Cori behind wrenched at the center of Blue's gut like something large and vicious was eating away at him.

He parried Cori's strike with his shield and slid his sword in for another attack. "You wish, nightmare," he laughed, his feelings not showing on his face or in his footing.

And wasn't staying half-buried underneath him an example of comfortable laziness? A virtue, he'd say. The nightmare was oblivious to the fable's method, unaware that he wanted to familiarize himself to Cori's absence. With their attempts at reteaching Blue how to dream Cori was only denying the very real possibility that they might have no contact at all while Blue was off at war. The fact that the Corinthian was being left at home seemed almost laughable; he'd always been the mover himself, taking no others with him. Now things were reversed.

"You don't believe me," he stated moreso than questioned, and with a smile too.

They were both good at not letting their emotions affect the movement of a fight. Cori quickly turned the angle of his shield down to drop the edge against Blue's weapon, directing it away from his body, and perhaps taking Blue's line of sight with it to better surprise him with the sleek sound of a blade, parting air directly for his throat. The fable was going to war, now he had to fight to kill.

Blue slid down to the ground, the blade nicking some hairs but doing no other damage, his shield aimed in a round arc to push Cori off balance. He knew how to kill, he knew how to end a fight fast. As long as the Vorpal Sword was with him he could kill in one stroke. But Blue wasn't stupid, and he knew that one day he might not have the sword anymore.

He hoped Cori would never find out that he was almost avoiding him. He wondered if the nightmare was jealous of Jack Harkness, but even though Blue would miss Jack, there wasn't that fear like he felt with Cori. There wasn't anything to be jealous of; the feelings just didn't compare.

"Sorry, you're an old nightmare, I don't always believe what they say," he teased, stepping around him, his sword seeking another entrance.

He narrowly avoided contact with the shield by jumping back, putting more distance between the two. Cori kept both sword and shield loose on his arms, characteristically nimble of his fighting style. He watched Blue's movement, everything from the way his feet pivoted to how his shadow walked across the greenery. Every little detail helped him to anticipate the next move.

"Don't you listen to your elders," asked the nightmare as he lunged forward, swordtip first in a hard thrust to take Blue by surprise so that a quick leap and circle of his shield's edge could cut at his nose. He wouldn't dare demolish the younger man's hands, lips, or eyes, and really Blue could say all he wanted that on the battlefield a gob wouldn't care. Gobs concentrating on non-lethal areas were sacrificing their own throats to Blue's sword.

Blue fell back, Cori's sword taking him by surprise. He caught it with his shield, his sword rising to block his shield. He pushed forward, slipping down and trying to catch Cori's foot with his own.

"Only when they have something to say," Blue called back, laughing, lunging with his sword point-out. Gobs who knew about him always went after his hands, first. That's what Baba Yaga had been told, and that's what would always happen to him.

He deftly avoided the attack on his foot with a lift and twist that resembled a dancer's gesture. The Corinthian rarely moved this way, few fighters had ever really made it necessary. Blue was on a short list of those rare combatants.

In closer quarters now, the nightmare completed his deft twist by trying to hook his shield arm around the sword that grazed his side. If he could trap Blue's weapon he could disarm him.

"I've got a lot to say," Cori insisted before attempting the gesture, shield edge drawn up to lock Blue's elbow. There was blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt, but the Corinthian wasn't fazed.

The move did catch Blue's sword, and it fell, but the fable was far from unarmed. He pushed at the nightmare with his shield and danced back with a swift motion of his feet, reaching for the dagger in his boot with a quick, smooth motion. He moved in a zigzag direction and tried to find his way to where his fallen sword was.

His dagger would be useless for stabbing but if Cori swung the sword it gave him a way to catch it. "But does it mean anything?"

He wasn't even mildly fazed by Cori's sudden advantage.

"I don't know, what do you think?"

Cori grunted as he stumbled back from the push. He withdrew his arm from the loops in his shield, letting it fall to the ground in exchange for Blue's sword. He'd been the one to disarm the fable, he saw where it'd fallen. With his toe the Corinthian quickly tossed the blade up in the air to catch it. Now he could have two.

Only Blue would see an advantage in an opponent with two swords, but he had been taught how to move to avoid them both. He knew the dagger wouldn't serve him so he threw it, fast and hard and accurate at the Corinthian's head, then ducked and rolled to grab the nightmare's fallen shield. He stood fast and stepped back, sharply, watching the Corinthian's chest for the next motion that would signal which arm he would swing with first. He had braced a foot against a tree, patient, watching.

He twirled both, keeping his fingers nimble and loose for the advantage of speed in one hand and accuracy in the other.

"Well," Cori asked Blue, as if keeping up their conversation was a second, more subtle challenge.

The nightmare walked around the younger man, ducking when he tossed the dagger and relinquishing his own shield to Blue. It didn't bother him, Cori was less of a defensive fighter and certainly more focused on offense to begin with. Sweat had begun to bead across his brow, his breathing a little sharper from the adrenaline. It was a good feeling, enough to mask that gentle fluttering in his stomach.

Blue felt like sex.

It was something that always happened. It happened when he fought with Cori and when he fought with Jack, and even when he sparred with Prince Charming. It was sex, pure adrenaline and hormones thumping in his skull. It was only sheer will that kept him from a hard on. It was a mixed signal, somewhere, all that suppression of his hormones for so many years.

He nodded up, "I want a blowjob after this," he hissed, almost snarling, and used the shields to move forward, pushing against the swords. Anyone who thought that he couldn't be aggressive with shields didn't know anything. He started his sword dance, the movements quick and graceful, his legs going in for kicks as he used the shields to keep the swords at bay.

Cori quirked a brow in amusement. "You want to give me one? All right." He grinned, twisting the bluebird's words.

The nightmare was no stranger to the smell of sweat and pheromones that begged for sexual gratification during a fight. It was only sheer luck that he could satisfy both urges with Boy Blue. The fable was a rare find and far be it for Cori not to oblige... either as giver or receiver! The throb in his head was going to go straight to his groin if he didn't act fast. Both swords twirled, catching the sunlight that poked through the tree branches.

"Harder," he growled at Blue with all the tone of a double entendre. Metal struck against metal as he parried each shield strike, his own body moving in time with Blue's advance. His feet were quick and when he jumped to avoid those kicks he did so with kill shots upon landing, swords aching to plunge into his taute flesh. But to his disadvantage, the greater surface area of two shields was forcing the nightmare backwards.

Edited 2008-04-10 20:47 (UTC)

"Oh, I'll give you one."

Blue obliged at Cori's request, smacking the swords, the metal slicing into his legs. Where it cut his thighs blood seeped into the fabric, but Blue ignored the pain. He pushed forward and fell back suddenly, hoping to catch the swords between his shields to eliminate at least one.

There was a frenzy, a frenzy that he couldn't stop. He started to pant harder, trying to catch his breath, and waited.

The fall tapped into his momentum and the edges locked onto one sword, wrenching it from his grip. Cori knew better than to hold on or attempt to reclaim it. He let it go, knowing at this proximity, and with this sudden burst of energy and movement, he wouldn't get it back. There wasn't time for a warning and the Corinthian knew Blue wouldn't want one. Without another word he lunged forward in a quick circle, the edge of his only blade arching for the neck. If it wasn't Little Boy Blue he was fighting, his combatant would be left one head shorter.

Blue raised his shield to catch the blade, his arm jarring from the impact. The pain struck him all the way to his shoulder and he remembered how difficult it was to hold that kind of position. The other shield moved fast, aimed for Cori's unprotected stomach.

Cori might have killed him, but what Cori would have done to himself wasn't an option. Blue slid down and skipped back, taking a deep breath.

The fast counterattack to his stomach struck, forcing the nightmare to the ground. He hit the grass on his knees and had no shield to guard him while regaining his balance. Cori had only one sword to provide his offense and defense. He could handle it, or so he thought. The brunt force to his torso increased the throbbing to a point where it was no longer sexual. Even the sight of blood on their skin couldn't do that. The nightmare wasn't sure what was wrong.

Nevertheless he shook his head and tried to stand again. He gestured to Blue, something akin to 'one moment' as he attempted to maintain his composure. Of course, there were no 'one moment's on a real battlefield.

Stopping wasn't an option. Blue didn't even see the gesture; in a real battlefield, that would have cost Cori his life, if he wasn't immortal. Blue was too into the movement to stop.

It was too late. The other shield was already in motion, aimed at where Cori's shoulder was, but now where Cori's head was.

Blue either hadn't seen it or was ignoring it. Fortunately Cori was still coherent enough to react accordingly. He raised his sword to block the edge of the shield from striking his face. The impact forced him back on the ground, billowing dust and dirt from underneath. He grunted from the pain running through his arms and shoulders. It was a tough fight, but the moment that had gone unnoticed would have ended his life... were he not immortal.

"... You win," groaned the Corinthian, relinquishing his grip on the sword.

Blue paused and stared, then dropped his weapons. Cori didn't give up that easily, not for something that pathetic. He scrabbled down on his knees to inspect the nightmare. "What's the matter?" He asked, worried. "You're not okay, don't lie about it."

If they needed to get home right away Blue would just transport them back, then zap back himself and get his Vespa.

The nightmare showed only superficial wounds, blood and bruising from their swordfight. The nausea he was feeling inside showed up only on his expression which twisted a bit when he tried to sit up.

"I'm not feeling good..." Cori answered, which was an understatement. Still, he tried to smile for Blue. "... Sorry."

Maybe he wasn't cut out for being his regular sparring partner after all.

Blue frowned. He felt that Cori was his perfect partner, and he wondered it was something about the way he fought. He decided that he'd let Cori ask for the next time, and just fall back to asking Prince Charming and Jack for their time.

"I'll take you home, is that okay?" He pulled the cloak from the back of the Vespa and fastened it over his shoulder. He pulled the hood over his face to hide his disappointment and his worry. "Let's go?"

"Yeah, okay, take me home," he conceded quietly, never one to give up on a fight so easily (and pathetically at that) but the Corinthian felt wrong. He couldn't explain the nausea and hoped it would simply subside with some downtime and a cigarette. "I owe you one..." Cori added with a touch to Blue's arm, nodding to him in apology.

That surprised Blue a bit, and he took Cori into his arms. "It's okay..." he said, and there was a flash, and they were on the bathroom floor in their house.

"...you don't have to." He didn't put his hood down. "Do you want me to wait to go get my Vespa and stuff? Or are you okay?"

"Go get your stuff, baby," he insisted even though he didn't think anyone would be so stupid to steal Blue's Vespa among other things! "I'll be fine, I just need to--"

The bugle boy wasn't kidding about being made of luck. They were both very fortunate that Blue had chosen to witch cloak into the bathroom. Cori immediately turned to his right, to his friend the toilet bowl, and grabbed the seat to heave over the water. They were dry at first, and for only those first few seconds, then things came out of his teeth eyes, wet and gelatinous, yellow and sack-like.

Blue stared.

He had seen Cori drunk, hungover, hating his life, but he had never seen Cori violently sick like that. He had never seen Cori vomit; especially from his eyes. He moved away from him, away from the toilet, and pulled the cloak tighter around himself. "I'll ask someone to pick it up for me, I don't want you to be sick..."

Blue leaned over, but was unsure about touching Cori. Finally he pet him on the back.

He didn't completely hear Blue throughout his fit of violent hurling. Only saliva and bile came from his regular mouth, but the things dropping from his teeth eyes kept coming. Some were attached to each other, some fell independently of their siblings. One egg sac in particular missed the toilet and fell on the floor. Without thinking, Cori pulling the flusher before the bowl could overfill with the things.

Blue didn't notice the fallen egg, and he especially didn't notice it crawling away and out of the bathroom. He was too concerned with Cori, and after a few flushes Blue went into the kitchen to a bottle of water.

He filled a bottle and brought it back, hoping that Cori had finished vomiting.

He spat a couple times, from all three mouths, to make sure that it was over--oh no false alarm. He hurled another batch into the bowl, his face wet with... whatever it was that coated the things. Cori flushed again, not wanting those things to be in his face, whatever the hell they were, but flushing them all away would prevent them from keeping a specimen to find out! Not that he cared.

The nightmare hacked and coughed, now it seemed like he was finished. He blindly reached out to Blue, or the water, or a towel, anything. This was embarrassing.

Blue was ever-ready, this time with a damp towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. "Here," he said, handing the damp towel first.

The smell was nasty, thick and cloying in Blue's mouth, but he ignored it. "Do you need anything else," he asked, pulling Cori's toothbrush out from the medicine cabinet and setting it on the sink.

"Thanks..." he groaned as he accepted the towel to wipe his face.

"What the hell was that," Cori asked without answering Blue's question, but he didn't think the fable could answer this one either. He gargled with the water from the bottle, and it really did bubble in all three mouths despite filling only his main one. He spat three ways into the sink.

Blue shrugged. "I have no idea," he said, then put his hood back up. "I'm going to go get the Vespa, I'll be home in about 20 minutes. Is there something you want? A new toothbrush, anything?"

He normally would have offered a kiss, but not in this case.

Cori wouldn't want him to kiss his mouth either. It was sour and distasteful, and he was slightly, just slightly embarrassed. He shook his head at Blue.

"No... I'll be right here," he tapped his finger to the sink. Literally he meant he wasn't going anywhere outside of the bathroom. Not yet.

"I'll be back soon," he said, squeezing Cori's hand before he disappeared.

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Log; complete

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