Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Thirty Two (NC-17)



Quixotic Chapter Thirty
Two (NC-17)

Disclaimers A

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, and Uberbeta…*already crossing
fingers for tomorrow * InterNutter, TC,
Maxwell Pink and Dracena are fantabulous and loverly for
archiving/hosting! ProPhile is
sparkled. And Morgan makes me
giggle. *g * Readers/Reviewers: I’d like to thank you all for being sane and
relatively normal… And I adore you for reading this and thank you so much for
reviewing when you get the chance. And
ReiMars gets extra Killer Kitty ™ treats for the group!

 

 

 



Amara
raised both eyebrows at the box Lance handed her. “What’s this?”

“Open it
and find out.”

“You look
entirely too pleased about this…” Her
head throbbing but not nearly as badly as before, she sat up in bed and
examined the box more closely. “It’s
too small for underwear and too large for jewelry…”

“Just open
the damned thing!” he sighed.

Amara
smirked faintly, ignoring the commotion downstairs that filtered up through the vents and door, and opened the black
leather box carefully, as if expecting something to leap out at her. “It’s a padlock,” she said after a moment of
confusion. She picked it up between two
fingers and turned it around to examine it from all angles. “Oooooh, shiny,” she finally said when it
became clear he was waiting for some more commentary.

“It’s…um…symbolic.”

“Of needing
to lock my bicycle up in town?”

“Of our…er…relationship.”


Amara noted
with some vague amusement that Lance was blushing deeply. “And is this saying you feel chained to me
then? Isn’t that a negative thing?”

He made an
aggravated noise in his throat and took the lock from her. “I feel like an idiot here…Okay, I was
reading about Saturnalia and all that and masters and slaves traded places…”

“So one of
us is master and one is slave? I didn’t
think we had progressed that far yet…”

“No,” he
growled, handing the lock back. “It got
me thinking that there’s this whole trust thing, I mean both of us have
problems with it, you know?” Amara opened
her hand in a ‘go on’ gesture. “Well…damn
it, I feel stupid! Okay,” he blew out a
breath and continued in a rush, “the lock is like symbolic of trust, ya know?”

Her
expression grew thoughtful. “Do you
have any chain?”

“Like a
necklace?”

“No, like
chain…” She fiddled with the lock and
lit on something, sliding to her feet and padding carefully to her dresser and
the ornate wooden jewelry box held there.
She fished in the contents and came up with a heavy gold chain
bracelet. “I don’t have cause to wear
this much here,” she murmured, fastening the lock through one of the links.[1] “I’m assuming you have the key somewhere.”

“Right…”

“Okay
then. I trust you.”

“Good,” he
said faintly, stuck for further words.

“I hope you
realize this does not mean I’m a slave of any sort…”

He sighed
and reached inside his shirt, producing a similar lock on the end of a piece of
string. “Fair enough?”

“Fair
enough.” She grinned faintly. “So I’m guessing you want your present now?”

“Hadn’t
even thought about it,” he lied.

“Ah.” She smiled more brightly and turned back to
her dresser to rummage through a drawer.


Lance moved to stand behind her, so
close he could feel her body heat through their clothes. He pushed her hair to one side, exposing the
back of her neck and the fine line of stitches on her scalp. Carefully, he kissed her skin beneath the
sutures and wincing with her as she shuddered.
“Sorry.”

“Tickles,” she complained, still
rummaging. “Ah!”

He took the ornate box from her
with a slight frown. “What is it?”

“A box. From Nova Roma.”

“Ah…and what do I put in it?”

“Nothing.”

“Um…”

“When a girl is born to the leader
of Nova Roma, she is given a box.” She
opened the lid and revealed it’s bare inside, save for a few grains of sand. “This is her—it’s her womb, her status…everything.”

“Weird.”

“When she gets married or is
married off, the box will contain a lock of her hair and her husband’s along
with rose petals for Venus somesome other items… When she has children, something of them will be added to
it. So on through her life. When she dies, the box contains everything
that made her and is kept on the family altar.
“ She shrugged sheepishly. “Symbolic winter gift giving all around, I
guess…”

“Yours is empty.”

“My betrothal never bore fruit and
I was exiled. All that is in there is
some sand from the shores of home.”

Lance snapped the lid shut and
stared at the lid of the box for a long moment. Her Nova Roman name was inscribed on the wooden surface and
inlaid with shell. Even years later, it
smelled of incense and some far off place.
“Thank you,” he finally managed.

“You lose it, I may kill you,” she
added direly.

He grinned when he realized she was
teasing him slightly. The brash ring of
the telephone interrupted any further intimacy. “God damn it…”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you get that? I’m…leaning…” Another dizzy spell had taken her balance and the window, cold
against her back, was offering support at that moment.

Lance sighed and reached for the
phone on her desk. “Yeah?” He looked at Amara, frowning “I dunno… Lemme ask.” He covered the mouthpiece and asked her, “You
seen Kitty?”

“Not in hours,” she murmured. “She’s probably downstairs.”

Lance repeated that into the phone,
covered the mouthpiece and sighed again.
“It’s Kurt’s mom…said she called the downstairs line but no one answered…” The phones were set to roll over to the
upstairs lines should the main number go unanswered after a certain number of
rings. This was proving to be very
annoying for the parties involved.

Amara shrugged. “Haven’t seen either of them in hours…”

Lance spoke into the phone
again. “Can’t help you, sorry. Want to leave a message?”

Amara sighed and turned to look out
the window as Lance muttered his uh huhs and yeahs. “Hey,” she said after a moment.
“There they are…”

“Hold on a sec…” Lance peered over Amara’s shoulder into the
dark yard below. Kitty and Kurt stood
in the circle of light provided by the security lamp in the yard and it looked
like they were arguing. Kitty was gesturing
wildly and Kurt was standing with his hands on his hips, his tail lashing in
agitation. “Open the window and yell
down.”

“It’s freezing out there!” she
protested as he reached paer ter to do as he suggested.

“Flame on then,” he teased. “Ow!”

 

Kitty stopped mid-rant as Lance’s
voice rang out over the lawn. “Ow! Kitty, phone! It’s Astrid!”

Kurt’s brow wrinkled. “Astrid?”

“Your mother,” Kitty said
flatly. “You remember her, right?”

Kurt closed his eyes. “Katzchen, I know you are addled right now
but…”

“Addled? Me?” Her voice shot up an
octave. “Kurt, Robin, whoever you are…”

“Kitty, phone!” Amara shouted. “It’s freezing! Come get the damned thing!”

Kitty growled in frustration and
strode towards the side of the house. “Toss it down!”

Kurt followed her, still entreating
her. “Kitty, please… we can go to the
forest and be free from this madness! You’re
in his thrall!”

“Catch!”

Kitty leaned back to track the
phone’s progress and squeaked as Kurt stepped in front of her. Before she could manage a “Move” or a shove,
the device hit with a resounding thump.
His eyes went wide and his mouth
opened in a perfect “o” of surprise before he fell face first into the
snow. Astrid’s voice issued tinnily
from the phone as Lance and Amara stared down and Kitty mewled a frantic, “Not
again!”

“Hello? Kitty? Are you there?”

“Mutti?” Kurt muttered, rolling
onto his back. “How did she get here?”

 

 

 

 

 



[1] In BDSM
circles, subs often show their status by wearing a small padlock on a chain
around their neck or, with women usually, by wearing silver bells.