Chapter 1
Reunion
Magnus rearranged the pillows on the bed, then punched them with his fist, then fluffed them back up. Frustrated, he flopped down on his back, still completely naked except for the black velvet choker adorning his neck and thigh-high stockings. The four poster bed with it's intricately carved, dark walnut headboard was comfortable enough...should be for the price of this room...but Magnus could find no comfort in it. Staring at the ceiling, his left hand patted the bed, then pulled out a ceramic pipe. He poked his right index finger in the bowl to pack the loose weed, then re-lit the pipe.
“Do you think he will actually show up?” Magnus asked, as puffed on the pipe for what must have been the thousandth time today. His anxiety had been building since he and Francois had sent Klaus the invitation to join them 3days ago. The expensive weed wasn't getting the job done for him. “This is worthless shit,” he moaned, letting the pipe drop on the bed.
Francois was stretched out on the over-stuffed, dark blue sofa and nursing a bottle of whiskey. He wore the same white, fluffy robe...that the hotel provided...for two days now.
“Who knows,” Francois answered. “We can stay an extra day if need be.”
“But we're less than a days ride from where we left him,” Magnus said, impatiently. He picked at his fingers wondering if Klaus would be glad to see him or decapitate both of them with that sword he was so proud of.
Francois sat up and glanced at the clock on the wall, the large brass pendulum annoyingly ticking the evening away. It was half past seven and dark outside. Swaying slightly, Francois made his way to the bed, setting his bottle of whiskey on the bedside table. He laid down, stretching out on his side to face Magnus. Distracted by his own thoughts, Magnus didn't look over. Francois began to run his right hand through Magnus messy hair, which had grown to below his ears. His fingers kept catching in the knots in Magnus hair so Francois gave up on that idea. Maybe he would try to comb the knots out before Magnus has to shave his head. Still wanting to soothe his whiny partner, his hand moved to Magnus's chest, rubbing slow circles on the pale, smooth skin. Magnus was high maintenance when it came to attention, but Francois didn't really mind. After all, it was what made it so easy for him to lure Magnus to come away with him. For himself, Francois didn't give a shit if Klaus showed up or not. He was only doing this for Magnus. If it kept Magnus with him then it was worth it.
“You really are beautiful,” Francois said softly. Magnus turned his head to look Francois in the eyes. Then, gripping Francois' face with both of his hands, Magnus crashed his lips into the man with a greedy kiss. “Ah, this is what I was looking for, the hungry, needy Magnus. Perfect.”
They latched onto each other's dicks as their tongues chased around in each other's mouth. Francois was never one for a lot of romantic bullshit. He was a 'get down to business' kind of guy. Years of being on battlefields had taught him to take what you can when you can get it. Even without the wars he hadn't changed much. Francois pulled away just long enough to get the bottle of mineral oil from the bedside table. He then rolled Magnus onto his stomach as he got on his knees behind him. Untying the robe to let it fall open, Francois spread Magnus's legs apart, then pulled Magnus's his hips up to meet his hard-on. “Magnus is all mine.”
Francois rubbed some oil on his dick and on Magnus' asshole, then grabbed Magnus by both his butt cheeks, ready to penetrate the gorgeous ass in front of him, when the door suddenly opens with a loud bang. Francois looks over his shoulder to see Klaus, in all his glory, standing in the doorway. “Fuck,” Francois hissed to himself. “I thought I locked the door.”
Letting out a yelp, Magnus immediately sat up and started grabbing at sheets to cover his still hard dick. He looked very much like a kid, who has been caught doing nasties, as he bit his lower lip and looked sheepishly at Klaus.
“How rude. Did you forget how to knock,” Francois said as he yanked his robe closed and tied it. He glared at Klaus and waited.
Klaus took a few steps into the room, dropping his travel bag on the floor and closing the door behind him. He even locked it. “I did,” he sneered. “Nobody answered.” His left hand pushed his coat back, then came to rest on his sword hilt, as he glared back at Francois. Since it was his left hand it wasn't a challenge. More of a pose than anything. Kind of like he was presenting himself. Everything he was wearing was new. His ivory colored linen shirt was covered down the front with such an exorbitant amount of ruffles they fluffed up under his chin. His black wool coat was decorated with an elaborate gold braid design around the collar and cuffs, where more ruffles poured out the sleeves. His black linen pants had a row of buttons down the outside of each pant leg. It was his own design. The heels of his shiny black boots were much taller than his old ones. The idea was to raise him more to eye level. They didn't quite make it that far, but he was closer. To top it off, he had a new dark green hat with a wide brim, and a green plume so large it looked like it should be tipping the hat off to one side. Even his black leather eye patch was new. The only part of his attire that wasn't new was the scabbard for his sword.
Klaus glances at Magnus with a sigh, then quickly turns back to Francois. They lock their eyes in a glare again. Francois got up and stood next to the bed. Klaus took two steps closer.
“You always did love an entrance. I suppose if the door had been locked you would have kicked it down.” Francois said sarcastically, holding his chin up slightly and folding his arms across his chest.
“I wouldn't scuff my boots. I'm not that interested,” Klaus said in a defiant tone while shaking his head. The giant feather waved in the air. “You invited me, remember?”
“I didn't. It was his idea,” Francois sniffed and jerked his thumb back to point at Magnus, his eyes never leaving Klaus.
“Why would he do that?” Klaus took a step closer.
“Ask him yourself,” Francois took a step closer.
“Don't need to. Obviously you can't satisfy him. You should know better than to run off with another man's boyfriend, you stupid fuck.” Klaus tossed his hat off somewhere in the room.
They continued their stare-down.
Magnus watched them, wide-eyed. At first he started to shake. This might end badly. Then, the thought came to him that they were fighting over him. No one had ever cared enough to fight over him before. He found it comforting in an odd sort of way.
“I didn't steal him. He came willingly, you arrogant piece of shit,” Francois spit.
“I doubt that, you pompous piece of shit,” Klaus threw off his coat where it landed somewhere near his hat.
“You don't know to treat a boyfriend, you fucking scumbag.” Francois was yelling now.
“Like you know? You can't keep your dick in your pants, you fucking whore.” Klaus was yelling louder.
“Dirty dick sucker,” Francois screams and steps closer.
“Dirty ass licker” Klaus screams back and squints as he takes a step.
They glare at one another for about three seconds then jump at each other. Klaus grabbed Francois around the waist just as Francois throws an arm around Klaus' neck. Magnus starts to scream, thinking the worst, then silently lets his mouth hang open. His eyebrows climb into his hairline as he watches the scene unfold.
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