FSE

Nace's Story (a sneak peek): Six

Story by Wyvr on SoFurry

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Y'know what else is fun? Parties. Parties are fun. Nace gets an invite to a graduation celebration by six new Pythian soldiers. There are drinks, and games, but after all the stress of grad week, emotions run a little high.

Six

Nace was becoming innured to the idea that he was never going to know who was coming down the corridor. He could tell when it wasn't food, but beyond that he was hopeless at guessing. Most of the time, whoever it was didn't even come all the way to the end, and he never found out what it was about. The last time, someone had come for Cym. That had been rough, but it had only been a few hours, and the dark blue came back but slightly dented. He was in good spirits and seemed to have gotten enough of his own back to be satisfied with the matter.

Now, in the hours between noon and evening meal, someone else was coming. Several someones, by the sound. More than two, at least.

I won't let them keep me, he told himself. This was by rote. It was a new rule, and one he had made very dear to him, since Oraz came. He would Not Fight. He would Be Good. He would Enjoy It, if he could. But he would not be kept, not forever, not by anyone but Oraz. He would wait for Oraz. And, if the male came back in the interim and said he would not, or could not keep Nace, then the yellow-green would wait forever. If he couldn't have Oraz, he didn't want anybody else.

The dragons were arguing with each other. When Nace shut his eyes and listened, he could discern three voices, though not quite what they were saying. They talked over and under each other. Like the woven strands of a grass mat, it was impossible to follow a single one. They came around the corner as one body, and then it was easy to tell them apart.

They might have been a scientific illustration of variation in the species. Short and tall, broad and thin. Plated belly, plated back, no plates at all, but scales that ran in size from fingertip to round gold piece. All were crested, and all were colored in gleaming tints of metal. Nace understood with a sigh that the council had been right. Even with all these differences, the yellow-green didn't look a damn thing like a Pythian.

The smallest of these, a pure silver with sticky-up plates that made a jagged line down his back, ducked past the others and stood on front of Cym's cage, actually hanging on the bars. "Oh, I like this one," he exclaimed. His eyes were half-lidded, dreamy, and a catlike sort of green. His muzzle was set in a permenant pout, which was either disinterested or just not very interested in what you were talking about. "Look at those big yellow eyes!"

"Look at that big red collar!" the largest countered, striding past. He was a blue-gold, a rare color combination that did not dilute the metal shade, but swirled with it, making streaks and patterns. He was scaled entirely and looked like an expensive setting of lapis lazuli. "No thank you," he added, dismissing the silver. "I choose life." He would have kept walking, but he met with a blank wall. "Oh," he said. "I guess this is it."

"Come away from the nasty dragon, Ree," said the third. He was about as tall as the blue-gold, but more slightly built, and more prosaically colored. He was a red-gold, which was quite common, but a pretty, deep shade of it with fiery-orange highlights. He took the silver by the shoulders and pulled him back to a safe distance.

"But he's gorgeous," the silver said, leaning forward again.

"Come away from the gorgeous dragon, Ree," the red-gold repeated, holding him back.

"Oh, can't we take this one?"

"I vote no," the red-gold said.

"Second!" the blue-gold said, lifting one absent hand. He was examining Nace with a critical eye. The yellow-green waved shyly.

The little silver threw the red-gold off him and went to stand in front of an empty cage, his back to them all. "You never want anyone any fun!" he cried.

"I'd just like to live a little past graduation, that's all," the blue-gold said. "What's the point of being a soldier if you're not going to get stabbed or shot or something? Do you really want 'fucked to death' on your cenotaph?"

The silver turned back around, smiling again. "I wouldn't mind it."

"I would."

"Second!" the red-gold concurred. He joined the blue-gold and studied Nace over his shoulder. "Here, Ree. Come have a look at this one. It's a green-collar."

"He's cute . . ." the silver said doubtfully, approaching.

"He's so little," the blue-gold said. "Hey, green-collar, are you even broke in?"

'Broke in' was something quite different from 'broken,' and Nace nodded to it. "I was with one male, once."

"Once?" the blue-gold cried. He turned back to the others. "Oh, we can't take him, we'll kill him."

"He's young, though," the red-gold said. "That might be better."

"I'd much rather have a blue-collar--"

"Oh!" the silver broke in. "What about that nice one back there with the shiny green scales? He was pretty."

"Blue-collars give me the fucking creeps," the red-gold said with a shudder. "Anything but a blue-collar."

"I like this one," the silver said, stepping back towards Cym.

The red-gold snatched his shoulder and guided him away. "That one would eat you alive, and you know it."

Cym couldn't help a tiny snicker. He clicked his teeth together.

"But I might liiike it . . ." the silver said, smiling.

Nace was beginning to wonder if that one was drunk, or in season. From the look of him, it was probably the latter, and the yellow-green giggled a little, embarrassed for him. It was kind of cute, though.

"You like everything," the red-gold scolded.

The blue-gold heaved a defeated sigh. "Well, there's always D-Block . . ."

"Bela, it'll be just the same," the red-gold said. "No one will agree on anything. It's been hours. I'm tired. If we have to go through another cell block, I'll be too tired to fuck. You all can have me, I won't even wake up for it."

The blue-gold heaved a deep sigh. "Well, what about this one?" he said, pointing back at the green-collar.

"I think he'd make it all right," the red-gold said.

The two of them spared a brief glance at the silver.

"I like everything," the smaller dragon said.

"Well," the blue-gold turned to Nace, "what about you? Do you want to go to a party?"

"I like parties," the yellow-green said. He'd never been to one.

"Are you sure that's a green collar?" the red-gold said, peering nearer at him.

Nace covered it with a hand, self-conscious. He couldn't think what other color they thought he ought to have. Red and blue were certainly out of the question.

"I don't care what color he is," the blue-gold said. He turned the other gold around and shoved him forward. "Let's just get the damn key and get him out of here before someone else wants him and we have to start all over again!"

The silver showed no indication of leaving, and the others either forgot him or left him back on purpose. He padded over to Nace's cell and leaned on the bars. "You're cute," he observed.

"Hi," Nace replied with a snicker. "You're cute, too."

"What's your name?"

"It's Nace."

"I'm Rial."

"You're real?"

The dragon spelled it for him. "Everyone just says Ree. It's easier. The red is Ana and the blue is Bela. Belacio and Anatole, but no one says that either. We're cadets. We're graduating." He leaned in and spoke from behind a cupped hand, "We're gonna have a party."

Nace dropped his voice, "Okay, I won't tell anyone."

Rial snickered, not too far gone to realize how ridiculous he was. "It's gonna be awesome," he said.

"Five-oh-eight . . . Five-oh-eight . . . Five-oh-three . . . Five-oh-eight!" the blue-gold, Bela, stopped short and drew Nace up against him. He was holding the yellow-green's hands behind his back, a mere formality. As soon as they got him two paces out of the cell, they knew he wouldn't dare go anywhere without them. Regardless, the yellow-green was quite happy to discover both his wrists fit comfortably in the palm of the larger dragon's hand. Rial was being led similarly, with Anatole pushing from behind, to keep him from veering off and chatting up anyone else he thought looked cute. Now that they were at the actual rooms, there wasn't much danger, but someone might always come into the hall.

Bela tried the door on 508 and found it latched from the inside. He knocked sharply with his free hand. "Are you guys in there?"

A brief, whispered discussion behind the door, like rats scampering in the walls. "No!" came the reply, then stifled laughter.

"Come on, you guys!"

"What's the password?" A high, falsetto.

"There's no password. Open the damn door!"

"Secret knock?" A deep bass this time, and then more laughter.

Bela worked the knob back and forth and rattled the door on its hinges. "Dulio, if someone sees us out here while you're screwing around in there . . . You know damn well we're too young to be renting here!"

The door came open with a muted click. Another red-gold, a rosier shade, was standing on the other side. He looked flushed from wine or laughter, but that was probably the natural color of him. He'd gone a little bit pinker in the muzzle under Bela's disapproval, and his amber eyes glittered with good humor. He gestured expansively. "It's grad week, Bela, no one cares. Half these rooms are gone to kids like us tonight. At twice the going rate, too."

The blue-gold bundled Nace in past him with a grunt.

"Did they bring a toy?" a smallish copper was in the midst of asking. He was a green dilute, also known as copper-patina, because that was what it looked like. It was a much more fortunate coloring than Kadie's near-pink, and quite pretty. He looked like a burnished plate of metal covered in delicate green lace. The dragon clapped his hands giddily. "Tell them they can't come in unless they--Oh, hello!" He sidled forward. "You're new, aren't you?"

"Hi," Nace answered, suddenly shy.

"Bela, he's so little!" This was another dragon, a bronze. He was tall and thin, gawky-looking, perhaps taller even than Bela, though he slumped to hide it. His wings and crest were a golden tan, and of proportionate length. He angled out one hand and gauged the yellow-green's height against his chest. "Didn't they have a proper-sized one?"

"He's taller 'an me," Rial put in. The rosy-gold shut and latched the door behind them.

"Not by much," the bronze said. "Anyway, you're not a dragon at all. You're some kind of pixie." His grin was pointed, and his eyes had an avidity that made Nace nervous.

"An ugly pixie," the copper agreed, giggling. "He's got pointy ears." He snatched one and indicated to Nace.

Rial howled indignity. "Oww! Quit it!"

Nace felt a trifle sandbagged. The whole room was dragons--high crests and low crests, wings and scales and lashing tails, shouting and laughter. They were poking at each other, playful tugs and slaps and gentle digs. Some of this attention extended to Nace, too. They ascertained his height from different vantages, felt the points of his horns and pulled a little at his ears and wings. He half expected someone to come forward and check his teeth. There might have been a hundred of them, or only one, in twenty different shades with a hundred limbs like a heathen idol.

"How many of you are there?" he gasped in desperation.

"Well, there's one of me," the rosy-gold said. "I think there's at least two of Bela . . ."

Rial silently named his fingers. "Six!" he decided. "Seven, with you."

Nace felt an electric tingle that might have been excitement, or sheer terror. "Do you all want me?"

The dragons considered this for a moment, quieting down.

The fiery red-gold, Anatole, spoke up and assured him, "Not all at once."

"At least not to start," the copper added with a grin.

"Wow," Nace said. He stumbled a little and might've sat down, but the dragons were close enough to catch him and steady him. A mass of hands pressed him more or less upright, and he could feel someone warm and close holding him up from behind.

"Easy there," Anatole said, and Nace felt the words on his neck. The yellow-green smiled and shut his eyes. Wow, he thought again, though this time he didn't say it.

"Someone get him a drink!" a voice suggested.

"Hell, someone get me a drink," Bela added, pushing through them. "Who had the drinks?"

"Dulio, that was Dulio!" the copper cried, pointing to the rosy-gold. From the laughter in his voice, he might've been accusing the dragon of some minor transgression, like being the one who ate the last piece of cake.

"It's over here," Dulio said. The knot of dragons moved en masse, the blue and the rosy-red at the lead. Nace went along with them, somewhat in the middle of things. He sort of had to, unless he wanted to push his way out, and he did want a drink. He hoped it was wine. He liked wine, at least he liked the way it made him feel. Cider would be good, too, or anything sweet.

Everything was on the floor. Either there weren't any tables or they were being employed elsewhere. It was hard to get a full sweep of the room, though it was fairly small (at least for seven). There were little flashes. Someone had festooned the walls and ceiling with twists of red crepe. The word "Happy" was chalked over the door in bright blue. Not "Happy Graduation" or "Happy Times" or even "Happy Birthday." Just "Happy." That made Nace smile. He couldn't help but take it as an imperative. While he was looking around, he almost put his foot down in a platter of sandwiches. The little silver, beside him, nearly did too. Rial giggled and grinned at him.

"What's the food?" someone said. "Who did the food?"

"Me," the bronze replied, nearby. "Sandwiches."

"What sort?" the copper asked.

Rial bent and took one and had a look for himself.

"Chicken salad," the bronze said.

"Canned chicken?" Bela cried, his bombast unmistakable. "Damn it, Ciero, I said anything that wasn't in a can . . . Anything!"

"Look, it's grad week, all right?" the bronze said. "Everyone wants a party, everyone wants something special. You're lucky we got the chicken. I had to blow the supply sergeant for bread!"

"Surely you could've talked him down to a hand job," the copper teased. "If you wanted to."

Rial was peering narrowly between the slices of bread and poking with one finger. "There's no celery. It's not chicken salad if there's no celery."

"Celery?" Ciero demanded. "Are you high?" The others edged away a little, giving him room to shout. "There's onion in there--"

"Canned onion," Bela put in.

"Shut up," the bronze overrode him. "And olives--"

"Canned olives."

"Shut up! And those diced red peppers--"

"Canned--"

"Shutupshutupshutup! If you don't like it you can eat shit. I did the best I could!" Ciero actually seemed a little wounded, but Nace couldn't believe the others intended anything mean. They had been laughing all the while, but Ciero's discomfort was sincere.

Nace put a hand on him. He tried to think of something nice to say. "I really like chicken salad," was what came out.

"Shit, I like chicken salad," Bela muttered. "I never said I didn't." He elbowed his way to the platter and took one. They all did, and ate.

"I don't like chicken salad," Ciero said, chewing. He snickered to himself.

Anatole took another sandwich, disassembled it, and wiped the paste of minced chicken on the edge of the platter. He offered the naked bread to the bronze with all due ceremony.

"Oh." Ciero had a bite. He made his eyes huge, somehow thrilled and sarcastic all at once. "Glorious. Where's the drinks? Good God, I need a drink. I been up since five o'clock this morning, you know."

"That's nothing," the fiery-gold said. He nudged Rial with an elbow. "This one was up all night. What was it, Ree? Tactics?"

"And a ten-mile hike this morning," the silver said, eyes glazed. "Full kit."

"Oh," Nace said, melting a bit. Rial wasn't in season, or drunk either. He was tired, tired to the point of idiocy, with no sense left to check his actions or his mouth. It was the most adorable thing Nace had ever seen. The yellow-green fought back an impulse to hug him.

"He's been useless for everything else," the copper intimated. He grinned at Nace. "Watch this, though. Soldier!" he snapped, a deeper voice and rougher, too. "The enemy has been sighted a mile ahead on a clear field! How do you engage?"

Rial shuddered and went ramrod straight, his eyes huge and terrified. "Sir! I will maintain the element of surprise at all cost! Aerial troops first, and light infantry to the rear, sir!" He slumped, exhausted, and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. "Don't do that, Nirez. That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," the copper replied with a snicker. He did have the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

Nace couldn't help it. He edged over and gave the silver a gentle squeeze, half a hug, with just one arm. Rial heaved a soft sigh and dropped his head on the yellow-green's shoulder.

"Don't fall asleep," Nirez said. "If you fall asleep, we get to do funny things to you."

"We've a whole box full," Ciero put in. From the floor--everything was on the floor, some of it behind them and some of it beneath them--he took a largish pasteboard box. It gave a curious rattle when he shook it. "Came with the room. We were looking at it before you got back."

"Is that leather?" Anatole asked, drifting over. They all regrouped around Ciero and the box, more interested in that than in the drinks, for now.

"Yup." Ciero handed him the strap. He had something for everyone. "And this is leather, and this is leather, and this is steel . . ."

"I don't even know what this is," Rial said, examining the chain.

"But I bet you'd look funny in it," Nirez grinned. He was holding a ball gag. He brought it to his mouth and bit it.

Bela grabbed the straps, quick as a flash, and yanked them behind the copper's head. "Bet you'd look funnier. You're funny-looking already."

"Ork," Nirez replied, about all he could manage.

Bela released him and dropped the gag back in the box. "Come on, we've got all night for that nonsense. What about the drinks?" His ears had gone a little pink, embarrassed under all his bluster.

Chains and straps and buckles clunked back into the box, with similar words of agreement. Nace hung back and poked at a few things while the others followed Dulio and grouped around a straw-packed crate.

"What is it?" Bela asked, lifting a bottle. It was large and dark green and there were lots more in the crate, nestled in a bed of excelsior.

"Wine," Dulio said with a shrug.

"Is it red or white?"

"It was two chits for the crate," the rosy-gold replied, as if that answered anything. Perhaps it did.

"We'll pour it out and have a look," Anatole said. "Did you bring cups, Dulio?"

The rosy-gold pawed through the crate and produced a mismatched set of wooden ones. Anatole took one, and Bela plucked the cork from the bottle and poured into it.

"It's pink," Anatole declared, blinking shock.

"Pink?" This brought everyone over, even Nace, who had been puzzling over a set of fur-lined metal cuffs.

"There's no such thing!" the bronze protested. He took the cup and peered inside. "Good God."

"I've heard of this," the copper said. "I think it's called rosae."

"That's just a fancy word for pink," Bela disdained. Nevertheless, he continued to pour, and Anatole handed cups around. "I suppose we might as well drink it, as long as we have it."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Dulio said acidly. "Cheers, love." He had a sip. He pursed his lips and made one long syllable. "Geeeeeee . . ." or something like it.

"Is it really dreadful?" the copper asked with morbid interest. He drank some of his own. "Oh! It's sweet."

That was all the encouragement Nace needed. He stuck his nose in his cup.

"It's like . . . cherry cough syrup," Nirez went on, sipping again. "Or punch. What's that red punch with the oranges floating in it?"

"Sangria?" Ciero offered. He sipped. "Oh, that's nothing like sangria."

"Sangria isn't punch, Ciero," the copper said.

"No, but that's what you mean . . ."

"Aren't they adorable?" Dulio broke in, grinning at Nace. "They should be mated."

Nace giggled at this and ducked his muzzle. All the shouting and arguing made his head spin, but no one seemed to be really hurt by it. It was funny, and fun. The whole room had energy like a lightning storm. He wanted to laugh even when he didn't know the joke. Even when there was no joke.

Nirez smacked Dulio on the muzzle and Ciero yanked his crest down over one eye.

"Asshole," the copper said. "It's your fault, anyway."

"My fault you're gay for each other?"

That sobered Nace, a little, but the copper-green ignored that insult like all the rest. "The wine, you dry fuck! The wine!"

Nace snickered soft relief. They were friends. Words with the power to cut to the bone were blunted here, even affectionate. He had never achieved such easiness with his own friends, but they were much younger. They hadn't been through anything as awful as cadet training together, either, and that had to make a difference. These six had to trust each other with their lives.

The group of them had turned on Dulio as a whole and were giving him a light pounding. Nace couldn't keep up with the argument, and he didn't feel nearly close enough to these dragons to start hitting anyone, so he crept off to one side and got out of their way.

There were some straw mats on the floor, each with a cotton cover and a single blanket. Nace counted exactly six. These dragons had brought their bedrolls with them from wherever they usually bunked for the night. The yellow-green found that somehow charming. He picked one and sat on the very edge, over the blanket. He didn't want to intrude, but no one paid him any mind anyway, so he guessed he was all right where he was.

He regarded them from this comfortable distance, all so different. Loud the same and laughing the same and probably exhausted the same, but so different in shape and mannerism that he could have told them apart in silhouette. He tried to work out who was cutest. That was too obvious--the tired little silver was like the last free kitten in a crate--so he tried to work out who was second cutest . . .

The group of them had pretty much ejected Dulio into the hall, so close together and so forceful that he could do nothing but comply. "Exile!" Nirez cheered happily. "Exile!"

"Don't come back till you've spent them all," Bela warned. "I don't care on what. Anything would help."

"Do at least try to get some ice," Anatole put in. "It has to taste better cold."

"It can't taste worse," Ciero added.

"Okay!" Dulio cried faintly. "Do you want some of those--" But Nirez had slammed the door on him.

"That'll teach him," the copper said, giggling.

"Stingy bastard," Ciero said, and sniffed.

"Aw, he didn't mean anything," Nirez replied, still with a grin. "Probably thought he'd spend them on something else nice."

"Then he should have," Bela said, exasperated. "What the hell was he saving them for? Solstice?"

"Morning meal?" Rial offered vaguely.

"I'd rather have the wine," the blue-gold said.

Anatole had broken away from the others while they were nattering. Nace didn't notice him again until the dragon had crept up beside him, near enough to touch.

The red-gold offered a chicken sandwich. "You looked lonesome over here." He quirked a brow. "Which is a bit odd, considering your situation . . ."

"He was checking us out," Nirez said. He gave his tail a teasing flick, and put his muzzle coquettishly over one shoulder. "Weren't you?"

Nace took the sandwich and buried his reply in it.

"Aw, he's shy," Ciero said. He came a few steps closer and poked lightly at the yellow-green. "Just look at him. This your first time, young one?"

Nace shook his muzzle, not quite daring to look up.

"Almost," Bela put in.

"Really?" Nirez said. "Aw." They cooed and admired him from a near distance, with words more suited to a hatchling. Nace went bright red in his ears. Rial finally came closest of all, pronounced the yellow-green just darling, and licked him on the cheek. Nace breathed out a tiny laugh and nosed back.

"You're spilling, my little love," Anatole said, catching the silver's hand. He was, too, a slow trickle on both the yellow-green and himself. Nace would've been spilling as well, but he'd already emptied his cup. It dangled limply from one hand.

"Good God, you finished it?" Ciero exclaimed. He took Nace's cup and looked inside. "Steeling yourself, were you?" he asked, a trifle more collected.

"Uh-uh," the yellow-green said. "I like it." He managed a smile. "I-I don't really mind being used, either. If it doesn't hurt." Nace couldn't bring himself to ask if they intended to hurt him. Surely not. They had been so kind.

And they were all so handsome. Especially that one, and that one, and the other one. And Rial was really very cute.

"I wonder . . ." Anatole said, considering.

That was when Dulio came back with the ice. He had four buckets full, as much as he could carry, as well as some canned orange juice and a bag of salted, mixed nuts. The ice and the juice were a huge improvement to the wine, even Nace liked it better, and the salt only made them all more thirsty. Having established that no one was going to hurt anyone (if only because there had been plenty of opportunity and no one had), the six Pythians got down to the business of getting drunk.

There was nothing subtle about it. The dark gold, Nace's first, had taken such pains to be subtle. These dragons had one goal in mind and they pursued it at all speed. Nobody had any care for the yellow-green, they were all too concerned with their own levels of inebriation. Nace couldn't keep up with them and didn't feel any pressure to try. They would pour for him, if he happened to be nearby and someone had a bottle open, but mostly they poured for themselves. If it weren't for the ice and the juice, they might've forgone cups altogether and drunk straight from the bottles.

Though they were doubtless distracted, Nace was never ignored. They treated him like he was one of them. Nothing particularly special, not to be pitied nor admired for his station in life, just another dragon. A friend, even. If only that because it would be too much trouble to set him apart. They all swapped stories. They all got teased and poked and prodded. They all ate and drank and laughed and shouted. Even sang. Between the six of them they taught Nace the anthem particular to their squad and got him to repeat it at full volume. There was little mention of sex, but for the obligatory teasing and occasional flirt. Sex would come later, when everyone was fully lubricated and comfortable and the wine had chased all the aches and pains and worry of graduation week. It was time to drink now.

Nirez and Dulio got a half-hearted game going, something called "Never Did I Ever," and soon they were all playing with alacrity. It was simple enough. They went around in a circle, each dragon in turn saying "Never Did I Ever," and making some appropriate confession. Then, if any of the others had, they had to drink. Stories and explainations were encuraged, but not required. It was a getting to know each other game, often played at parties, though the six cadets already knew each other well enough to cheat. Bela, for example, said "Never Did I Ever . . . Lick someone's undertail," knowing full well Ciero would have to drink.

"Why?"Anatole said, visibly disturbed.

"It was a test," Ciero said. He was drunk enough to tell them, but not enough to do it with any enthusiasm. He hung his head and looked at his hands in his lap. "I cheated on a test. Mid-term. Maths. Teacher found out and I did it to keep my record clear. I didn't want to."

"Oh, Ciero," Nirez said, and outright hugged him. Nace softened a little towards the bronze as well. If he'd been desperate enough to cheat, he must have been doing very badly. Ciero got mumbles of sympathy all around.

"See?" Bela said. "No one thinks you're awful for it," which had evidently been his point, though it was sloppily made.

"I think you're a little awful," Anatole said, patting him.

"I think you're a little gay," the bronze said, too sharply.

"Maybe a little," the fiery-gold replied with a snicker.

"I would've helped you," Nirez said, "if you asked . . ."

"I'm beyond help, Nai," Ciero said. He stretched expansively, to the full width of his arms and wings. He had to lean back from the circle to do it. "Fortunately, I'm also beyond maths. If I get held back for it, fuck it. I'm not occifer material."

Dulio realized it first and brayed laughter. "No, really, occifer! I'm not as think as you drunk I am!"

The bronze worked his mouth mutely for a moment, trying to be offended, but he gave up and dissolved in laughter, head buried in his arms. "Quit it, Dulio! You'll make me pee myself!"

"I 'as flyin back home," Dulio went on with an exaggerated slur, "but I musta took a wrong turn somewhere 'cos I ran into this tree we don't have . . ."

"Cut it out!" Ciero collected himself as best he was able and ran out of the room, bent almost double, headed for the nearest toilet.

Nace had actually wept a little and he wiped his eyes and his muzzle. It wasn't that funny, he knew that, but at the same time it was extremely funny. Everything was. When they had all settled a little and the bronze had come back, Rial had his turn. He always had difficulty coming up with anything. He had no shortage of time this round, but apparently he had been thinking of something else.

"Uhh . . . Never Did I Ever . . . uhh . . . Meet my mother."

That was an easy one. Nace drank, but he was surprised to see Anatole drinking, too.

"My father kept her," the red-gold explained, and that was simple enough.

Nace's story was considerably more complicated, and he didn't have the faculty to edit it. He started at the trial and the rest of it just came. They asked him questions, but mostly he just went along, one thing to the next, until there was nothing more. He didn't so much end the tale as run out of things to say. He drank again after. His throat was dry.

There was quiet, for a little while.

"That's fucking terrible!" Ciero cried, upstarting. "Did you know?" he demanded of Bela and Anatole. "Did you fucking . . . fuckers . . . fuck . . ." He conjugated the verb. Also the noun, which was quite some accomplishment. Nace didn't think you could do that.

"No!" said Bela. "No! Of course not!"

"No," Anatole agreed softly.

Rial just stared at him.

"Why didn't you say something?" Anatole said.

"Would it've changed anything?" Nace asked them.

"We wouldn't have taken you!" Bela cried.

"But I wanted to come," the yellow-green said. "I like it here. And you're all so nice to me . . ."

"Oh, no," the blue-gold said, the voice of a dragon who has discovered a gushing leak in the bottom of a barrel. "Oh, shit. Don't cry!" He dropped his hands, looking helpless and afraid, as Nace did anyway.

Rial started crying, too.

"Fuck're you doing that for?" Bela demanded at a shriek.

"It's just so sad!" the silver sobbed into his hands.

"Oh, fuck me raw!" Bela stormed off and stood in the corner, facing the wall. Dulio went after him, but the blue-gold shoved him away when he got near.

"Does anyone have a hankie?" Nirez asked, looking around. "I didn't think . . ."

Ciero got up and left them without a word. He went out into the hall and shut the door behind him. Nace stopped crying at that, worried and confused. Rial just went on, oblivious.

"Nai, maybe you'd better . . ." Anatole put in.

"Yeah," the copper said. He got as far as the door before the bronze came back in. He pushed Nirez aside with hardly a glance. He was trailing long streamers of toilet paper in his hands. One bunch for Rial, one bunch for Nace. He threw each at the appropriate dragon. "Here. Here. Clean yourselves up, for God's sake."

The yellow-green wiped his muzzle with a tail of thin paper. Anatole had to help Rial do his.

"Did I ruin it?" Nace asked weakly, of the room in general and Anatole in particular. "Please say I didn't ruin it." He was choking up again. "It was all so nice . . ."

"Oh, you didn't ruin it," the red-gold replied with a careless wave. "It's grad week. Someone would've started in crying eventually. Probably this one, too." He nosed gently at the silver. "If it wasn't you, it'd be how we all might get transferred away from each other--" Rial gave a heartwrenching sob. Anatole rolled his eyes and wiped the silver's muzzle again. "You needn't worry about that, Ree. We're not exactly the best and brightest, and we're needed badly enough here . . ."

"But it could happen!"

"Yes, and the sun might fall from the sky. It's just not very likely." Anatole frowned at him. "Maybe you should sleep, just a little."

"They'll do things to me," Rial said, pouting. He pointed an accusatory finger at Dulio, who was still trying to get the blue-gold out of the corner. "That one will."

"Never!" the rosy-gold exclaimed, one hand to his chest. He flew to the pasteboard box, drew out a chain and began measuring it against the silver's wrists. "Why, I don't know how you could insinuate such a thing. I've a mind to be insulted!"

Rial put a hand on the rosy-gold's muzzle and pushed, not hard, but Dulio went over backwards anyway.

"Dulio, stop being a cloaca," Nirez said.

Nace blinked at that. They all went quiet and looked at the copper. It was just so incredibly technical. The yellow-green giggled.

"What was that?" Dulio asked, not offended, rather delighted.

"You know," the copper said primly, and then they all were laughing at him, Rial too, with tears streaming from his eyes.

The silver sniffled. "Nai . . . Nai, did you have biology tody?"

"Maybe," the dragon said. He couldn't suppress a grin. "What of it? It's what he is, you know. It's in the book. 'A puckered orifice that spews shit when it opens.' And there's a big illustration of Dulio telling a joke." He nodded to the rosy-gold. "In color."

"It's true," Bela said, coming back. He snatched some of Nace's tissue and wiped his muzzle. "I saw it."

"I remember the joke," Dulio said. "You see, there was this female--"

"Oh, God, spare us," Ciero said.

"--and she was completely stupid, she could never remember anything, and her mate's a flyer . . ."

It was okay. They were all okay. The game was over, but it didn't matter. They broke up into smaller groups, dragons who preferred each other, or who were just more interested in each other for the time being. There was considerable turnover, and shifting. Drinking was on the back burner, though it still went on. Conversation was the order of the moment, stories and jokes, considered opinions and comisseration. That Nace was Pythian, in all but the truest sense of the word, only made him easier to talk to. When they spoke about the finer points of cadet training, the yellow-green understood immediately. It was just like school, though rather more intense. A dragon who fell behind didn't have a prayer of catching up again. That was probably the idea.

When the mood shifted from quiet talking to quiet touching, Nace hardly noticed. It was much the same, there was no ceremony about it. Soldiers barracked together, they went out into the field together, and they were expected to do other things together, too. Rial asked Anatole for a little attention with the casualness of someone who needed a wing itched.

Nace caught them out of the corner of his eye and then he couldn't look away. Anatole had a clever tail. It wasn't up to Oraz's standard, but it was terribly flexible at its tip. The yellow-green licked over his muzzle and swallowed.

Bela had been in the middle of a somewhat rambling story, one he wasn't even interested in himself. It only took a little while for him to notice Nace's attention had gone elsewhere, too. He watched for a moment, then gave an irritated click of his tongue. He stood and indicated the yellow-green with both hands. "HEY! MORONS!"

Nace shriveled. He half-smiled, half-flinched in embarrassment.

The blue-gold didn't notice, or didn't care. "What do we have a slave for, huh?"

Anatole gave a little snicker. Rial pouted. "But Ana knows how to do that thing . . ." he said.

The red-gold grinned. "I do know how to do that thing, Bela." He gestured with his tail then slipped it back between Rial's legs. The silver shut his eyes and began a contented purr.

"God's sake," Bela muttered, one hand to his head. "I'll use him, then!" He snatched Nace's arm with sudden decisiveness and dragged him to a mat.

"Oh!" said the yellow-green. He walked quickly, but Bela could've moved him with no help at all. His grip was like an iron armlet. It hurt a little. Nace didn't mind it hurting a little. He gazed up at the blue-gold from the floor, ready for anything, willing for anything.

Bela stood for a moment, staring at him. He gave Nace his arm back and sat beside him with a sigh. "Okay, now what?"

"Anything you want," the dragon said, still half-hypontized. He had been so strong, and forceful . . .

The blue-gold goggled at Nace for a moment, not quite processing the slave's reaction, not quite certain what to do with it. "I don't suppose you know how to do that thing?" he asked in honest bewilderment.

Nace woke reluctantly. He shook his head, more to clear it than to reply. "Uh-uh. I got a stupid tail." He picked it up to show Bela. There were too few bones in it, hardly any flex at all.

"Oh. Well. Me too." The Pythian displayed his. He shrugged, willing to leave it at that.

Nace was not so willing. He thought for a moment. "I do know one thing." Not needing further encouragement, he did it.

"Criminey Solstice!" Bela cried, scrabbling back from him, claws bared.

Nace tucked his tongue back in his mouth. He'd never heard that particular oath before. It was like something a little kid would say. "No?" he asked.

The blue-gold considered this, eyes and mouth wide, one finger raised as if to declare, No. Absolutely not! He shut his mouth and allowed his hand to wilt. "Okay, but you have to stop if I don't like it."

Nace smiled at him. He had been a little shy of Bela, so big and strong and sure and loud. Such confidence pulled him like a magnet, but he was still wary of it. Submission was an essential part of him, he couldn't turn it on and off like a faucet, all he could do was try to avoid the things that would trigger it--if it wasn't safe. He knew he would do anything Bela wanted, and want it too, whether it was safe or not. But the blue-gold didn't want to dominate him, push or force him. Nace could keep a little of his own initiative, if it was required.

"You'll like it," he promised, and dipped his muzzle down.

It was a bit of a trial getting Bela's shaft out. Gentle didn't do it, and rough made him try to curl up in a ball. Ultimately, patience succeeded, and then the blue-gold definitely liked it. He made a soft, low moan and twitched. "Wh-what's that thing you're doing with your tongue?"

"Licking?" Nace asked, releasing him to do so.

"I don't care, do it more."

Nace was obedient. More than that, he was enthused. He had been running his thin tongue back and forth and now he worked it from side to side as well. He might have had a stupid tail, but he had a fairly clever tongue. He could curl it, not all dragons could, and he did so, making a coil around the hot flesh in his mouth.

Bela swore, but it was a good swear, not at all frightened, just surprised. And happy.

The yellow-green glanced up at the chalk missive, scrawled above the door. Yup, he decided. He moved his muzzle, moved his tongue. His jaw ached a little, but it was a good ache, just like the slow leak of fluid in his mouth was a good taste. It meant he was being good, giving pleasure, and it made him feel awfully seductive. His tail switched back and forth behind him. It wasn't clever, but it was no slouch at expressing his mood. He felt predatory, like he was lying on his belly in the tall grass, stalking something. The wily orgasm, he thought. That almost made him laugh--but that would ruin everything and he'd have to start over!

Nace was patient, and this time he made no withholding. Bela's state of arousal seemed too delicate to be left alone for any amount of time. It was better to keep licking, even when the blue-gold made the occasional frantic gesture. He might have been asking for more, or less, but Nace wouldn't let go to make sure. He gave more, and that seemed to do all right. Bela didn't tell him to stop, but Bela seemed beyond telling anybody anything. His fingers were buried knuckle deep in his mat. His legs and tail stretched out straight and tense, toes pointed. The others kept looking over at the noises he was making, and Nace colored a little at the thought of an audience. His tail kept on switching, though, so perhaps he liked the thought of it, too.

"Mmm," he encouraged, when he felt the pulsation grow more rapid beneath his tongue. He began to suck again, but he kept stroking. When the blue-gold began to jerk his hips, Nace put hands in his lap and held him just still enough to keep him from pulling out entirely. This was wet work, and Bela was quite slick. The yellow-green didn't want to get his teeth involved too much. When he bit down even a little, Bela would make a pitiful whine. He didn't want to mess this up, and the male was so close, so close . . .

Nace felt the spasm in his muzzle before he even processed the blue-gold's cry. He sucked more, harder, and swallowed all away. The taste was still strange to him, but not unpleasant, and he was beginning to like it. With Bela writhing under his attentions, moaning with shameless pleasure, he was beginning to like it a lot. It was all he could do to keep from grinning satisfaction.

When the dragon went limp (in most of his body, anyway) Nace cleaned him. The basic motions of grooming, but in a very specific area. The blue-gold was moveless, except for his breathing and the occasional twitch.

Someone was applauding. That had to be Dulio.

"Woo!" the rosy-gold cried. "Fuck him again!"

Nace giggled and ducked behind his hands, afraid to see just how many were watching.

"Tissue?" Ciero offered, from much too near. The yellow-green glanced sideways and caught sight of his toes, and a dangling streamer of toilet paper.

Bela sat up and looked dazedly around. He kicked one leg out, stirring his blanket into a swirl. "Oh," he said. "My bed's all wet."

"Did you swallow?" Ciero asked the yellow-green.

"Huh?" Nace answered.

Bela snatched the tissue and dabbed at the foot end of his mat, not that it did much good.

"Aren't I s'posed to?" Nace went on.

The bronze considered this, uncertainty welling over disgust. "I dunno. It's kinda gay."

"It makes room," the young slave replied.

"It was awesome," Bela said fondly. He thumped back on his mat and stared up at the ceiling. "I want some ice," he said, not to anyone in particular, just a general statement of fact.

"Get it your damn self," Ciero said. "I'm not your bitch." He was grinning, though.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" the yellow-green said, scrambing away. His foot caught on something, something hard and round and solidly stuck in the floor. The edges were smooth, it did not cut him, but it was startling, and painful, and he went sprawling. It was just as well he didn't have the ice yet, or it would've gone everywhere.

"Ow!" he cried, and then, more miserably, "Ow . . ."

"The hell . . . ?" Bela said. He sat up, but he wasn't quite together enough to come over. The others did.

Anatole got there first. "Oh, look. You bit yourself."

That got the blue-gold moving. "Oh my God, say he didn't bite his tongue . . ."

"No, just his lip. Just a little bit."

Nirez brought ice, Ciero brought some more tissue. Anatole wrapped one in the other and pressed it to the tiny cut. Nace whined a little, but really his foot hurt more. He brought it into his lap and felt the sore place with one finger. There was a shallow indentation there. "What did I step on?"

Ciero went back and looked for it, stepping carefully as he moved blankets and mats. "It's a ringbolt," the bronze exclaimed. There was a soft tnk of metal as he flicked it over to one side. "No, it's two ringbolts . . . Y'know, I bet . . ." He kicked Bela's mat aside. "Yeah. It's four ringbolts. Restraining bolts. Y'know, for the chains and shit."

The six of them (seven of them, once Anatole helped Nace back to his feet) gathered around and looked.

"Shit, how did we miss these?" Bela said.

"It would help if they weren't gray like the floor," Nirez posited, toeing one.

Nace was staring, standing on one foot and on the toes of the other and staring. He counted, once, then again. One for each arm, one for each leg. Wings, of course, could be bound with a simple strap. The tail, well, you wouldn't need to bind that . . . but that metal cuff and chain in the box could probably hold it up. Wow, he thought again. He almost said it aloud: Wow.

"I guess if we did get a red-collar . . ." Rial said.

"Just as well we didn't," Anatole broke in. "Nasty things." He covered two with Bela's mat. "Ree, bring your bed and get the others. Stop more accidents."

Nodding all around. After half a crate of wine, they'd never remember to look. Rial obediently dumped his mat in the middle of the room.

"Better," the fiery-gold said with a nod. "Come on, Nace, let's see to you." He still had a hold of the yellow-green's arm, and now he pulled gently. "The rest of you . . . I don't know, eat sandwiches or something. Give him a minute."

"I'm really okay," the yellow-green demurred. He touched his lip. It wasn't even bleeding anymore.

Anatole tipped his muzzle down and looked Nace in the eye. The fiery-gold's eyes were glass-green, a startling contrast. They were so kind. "Let me see to you."

Nace shivered. The hand on his arm felt very strong. "Okay," he said. He went where the gold took him. He would've walked off a cliff if the gold took him.

"Aaannaaa," Rial whined, somehow distant. "I don't wanna 'nother sandwich."

Anatole never glanced away. He didn't even blink. "Go play with Dulio, then. You like Dulio."

"I do?" the silver said.

"Sure you do." The rosy-gold's voice, quite far. "You think the sun shines out of my ass . . ."

"Let me see there," Anatole said, softly but very near. He touched Nace's muzzle with careful fingers, around the hurt place, but never against it.

Nace was sitting beside him on a mat and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. Didn't care, either.

The red-gold licked him. Gently, lightly licked, just once. "Does it sting?"

The yellow-green couldn't think what he was talking about. "Huh-uh," he managed. It had felt wonderful. It was a full body sensation, as if the sensitive skin of his muzzle had been hooked in to every part of him. Especially between the legs. It had been amazing there.

Anatole licked again, and again.

Nace closed his eyes, tipped his head back, exposing his throat. He could hurt me, he thought, as if some small part of him was trying to warn him. I'd let him hurt me. I'd like it.

It was a thought with no meaning and he let it go.

"What about here?" Anatole asked him. His fingers brushed the sole of Nace's foot, skirting the sore place, a tiny indentation that might bruise, if given some time. He touched with his fingertips, never a claw. They were soft. Warm.

"Huh-uh. That's niiice . . ." Nace answered. His tongue felt thick. I am so drunk, he thought. How did I get so drunk just from looking at him?

It was the eyes. Definitely something in the eyes. He could look into them for hours, maybe even fall asleep, like he sometimes did watching a clear river rush by. They didn't move, but they were terribly deep. Desire swam like a strange fish beneath the surface.

"Stay off it for a little, I think."

"Uh-huh," Nace said. Sure. Anything.

Anatole just touched him for a while, gentle fingers, warm and careful. Not the hurt places, and not the best places. His muzzle, mostly. His chest. He could tell from the pressure of the red-gold's hand that the dragon wanted him lying down, so he did. It wasn't a terribly comfortable bed, but Anatole's touch made the tension melt out of him like butter on a stove. He was a puddle, limp, and he submitted to everything. It was so nice.

"I really like those ringbolts," he said for no reason at all.

"Do you, now?" Anatole answered softly.

"Uh-huh. I like being tied. When I think of being tied, I get so hot . . ." He trailed away. "I dunno why I said that. I feel so funny."

"But it's nice, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh . . ."

"You can think about being tied if you want to. That would be nice, too."

He did. It was as if the thoughts had been poured into his mind, clear, intense, and incredibly sexy. He'd always adored the thought of being tied. So many different knots. So many different materials. Silk would be lovely. A fine, silk scarf, golden yellow. And the knot, a double loop that would tighten if he pulled. He wouldn't dare pull. Well, maybe he would, a little bit, just to test and see. His hands twitched reflexively, his hips did, too. He reached down between his legs to touch himself. It felt so good there, so good, and he couldn't stop thinking of being tied. He was half-crazy with want. His shaft was already hard and red and throbbing.

"No, no." Anatole, near and soft. The yellow-green dropped his hands back on the mat as if he'd gone numb. The red-gold smiled at him. "I'll touch you there."

He wanted to moan at the contact, but his voice wasn't working anymore. He felt so weak. He managed a wavering sigh.

"You can talk if you want to, Nace. It won't bring you back."

" . . . don't want to."

"Okay."

He shivered when Anatole touched him, shivered in his entire being like someone sick with fever. He was so hot, but he didn't feel sick, not at all. He felt limp and helpless and absolutely wonderful. He thought of being tied, spreadeagled, on the floor, with Anatole there to do whatever he wanted with him.

"Nace? I want you to touch me, too."

The yellow-green made an airy, happy little squeak. He reached out with both hands, blindly, but terribly eager. The red-gold guided him, and when he felt that firm heat, slightly sticky, a feeling like no other, he curled his fingers around.

"Your hands are tied," the red-gold mentioned, something of an afterthought. Nace hadn't noticed until then that they were. He turned his wrists, first individually, then both together. The feel of the silk was slick and smooth, and he didn't have to worry about pulling, because Anatole was, a little, just enough to prove he could. The yellow-green hoped he would never stop. His motion was limited, but not too much, and Anatole made sounds that said he liked it. Nace let go for just a moment, brought his hands to his muzzle and licked them damp. When he put them back, Anatole liked it even better. He'd let Nace move, as if he'd known what the yellow-green wanted and that it was good, but he'd never stopped his pressure on the silk scarf, never let it go slack, not even for an instant. He was so good at keeping him tied. Nace moaned assent and twitched his hips. When the dragon's warm touching began again, touching even as Nace was touching him, the yellow-green curled his toes in anticipation.

It didn't take much. It felt like it went on for hours, went on forever, and Nace never grew tired of it, but it didn't take much. There was such stimulation, and even then he couldn't stop thinking of being tied, even now that he was. He thought of it, and he wanted it, more soft silk, more pressure on his wrists, more pressure, building, between his legs. When he could take no more, hold back no longer, when it finally burst, it was hot and good and it flooded him entire. It was Pleasure, and it was Submision, capitals both. He would've twitched and jerked and bucked but Anatole held him. Anatole made him be still, made him keep touching. When the red-gold's climax followed his, sudden and swift, Nace closed his eyes in shivery satisfaction.

I'm good, he thought. I am so good. He MADE me be good . . .

Nace realized he had been lying here, staring at the ceiling and thinking not much, for positively hours. Just feeling, feeling very good, a little drunk and a little distant but very very good, for hours. He blinked and sat up slowly, as if he'd forgotten how to move. He had been so very still. His hands were free when he looked down at them in disappointment.

"He's back," someone said.

"Where's my scarf?" the yellow-green asked, a trifle muzzily.

"Left it back there, I imagine," Dulio said. The rosy-gold slung an arm around him and helped to keep him upright. Someone handed Nace a drink and he drank it. There was only a little ice and it was terribly sweet, just the way he would've made it himself.

"What happened?" he said. The dragons were gathered around him, Nirez and Dulio nearest, Anatole hanging back and looking a little shy.

"He took you away with him," Dulio said, with a nod at the fiery-gold. "He says he can tell if someone'll go when he gets a good look in their eyes. Me and Ciero can't. Bela can, but he doesn't like it."

"Ree always goes super easy," Nirez put in. "Nothing like you though."

"You started to go on your own," Anatole said. "I thought it was when I looked at you. Now I think, maybe . . . before . . ." He let it go, but Nace knew what he meant, and flushed embarrasingly warm.

"It's awful nice there," Rial said fondly. "They have everything you'd ever want. Fresh oranges, and ice cream . . ."

"Is that what you go there for? To eat?" Nirez teased.

"Sometimes," the silver replied with a sniff.

"Is the party over?" Nace wondered, looking around. "Did I miss it?"

Dulio blinked at him. "Nah," he said. "Why would it be over? It's early yet."

"But it was hours," Nace protested.

"Uh-uh. More like a half hour, maybe not even that."

"It's seems slower there," Rial said, "but it's really not."

"Is that that thing he can do?" Nace asked them.

"Oh, that?" Anatole said. He snickered. "Uh-uh. I can make a double loop in my tail. See?" He put two fingers together and curled around them.

"But one goes one way and the other goes the other way," Rial said. "That's the good part."

The fiery-gold just shrugged. "I can do that, too, if you want it."

"Uh-uh," Nace said. "The other thing is better. Lots."

Anatole smiled at him. "I thought so, too."

Ree was sulking and nobody seemed to know what to do about it. It hadn't been much teasing, in fact it hadn't started with teasing at all. Ana (the nicknames came easier now, even Ana, which sounded a trifle girly to Nace's ear) had delicately broached the idea of a nap, just a brief one, and when the silver rejected that he had offered, half-joking, to take him away for a little bit. Nace thought this was a fabulous idea, he was wide awake after his own excursion and felt ready for anything. Ree, however, reacted with blatant distrust.

"No! No! You'll really make me sleep and I won't wake up and all of you will do something awful!"

"Had a little paranoia with your cereal this morning, Ree?" Ciero had said. That had really been it. Further attempts to lighten the mood only made matters worse and now Rial was crouched in a corner, sick to death of them.

The remaining five were staring at each other with varying degrees of accusation.

Why don't you DO something?

Who, me? Not ME.

No one expected anything of Nace. They seemed to have forgotten he was there. The yellow-green felt free--nay, obligated--to get up and go over there and give Ree a hug. Nace was a great believer in hugs. They made a fine substitution for the right words, and could undo a lot of wrong ones.

Ree was a champion at getting hugged. A lot of dragons would tense up or pull away. The instant he processed he was getting a hug, Rial went all soft. Even in the middle, where the cruel or incautious could squeeze too hard and bring pain. Either he'd never been hurt before, ever, or he was very brave.

"They didn't mean anything by it, you know?" Nace said softly.

"I know," the silver said. "I'm just so tired. Sometimes I wish they'd just let me alone."

That he was so tired, obviously so, was probably the reason they wouldn't let him alone. The ability to come right out and say, "I love you. I'm worried," had been bred out of the Pythian race generations ago. Maybe the females had taken it with them. The words of males, spoke in the manner of males, were too harsh and too unclear.

"Do you want me to let you alone?" Nace asked.

"Uh-uh," Rial replied and squeezed back.

"Aww," Nirez put in. A few tentative remarks were made, like stones thrown cautiously to gauge the depth of a well. Rial breathed a small snicker and waved one impatient hand at them, nothing more. He didn't offend. He didn't really laugh, either, so the others soon got bored of him and went back to their own company. Ree was all right.

Nace stayed with him and held him and groomed him. Rial submitted, even tipping his muzzle up so the yellow-green could get at his throat. Nace gave an obligatory nip and the little dragon shivered and sighed. When Nace felt the creep of a silver hand between his legs he allowed it and reciprocated.

"You're so nice," Ree murmured, nosing him. "I thought you were cute, but I didn't know you'd be so nice. I'm glad you're here."

The yellow-green went pink in his muzzle and ears. "Me too," he said. "I think you're nice, too."

"Be nice to me," Rial said. He stretched out on the floor and tugged Nace down beside him. He yawned. The change in position seemed to compell him to yawn. "Nothing . . . Nothing complicated. I'm too sleepy."

"No," Nace promised. He traced a light finger over the tip of the silver's muzzle. "Nothing complicated." He didn't want to move, and Ree didn't either, though the floor was hard and cold beneath them. They were both used to hard sleeping; a straw mat wasn't much softer than the bare floor, and together they could warm each other. Nace stroked him, not hard enough to cause any friction and he spread his attentions around, itching the base of the dragon's tail, letting the fabric of his wings slip through his fingers. He kissed, not deeply, light little touches of his tongue between parted lips. Nothing complicated, and he went slow. Soon Rial was laid out on his back, erect and purring. Nace moved his muzzle down and licked, more to add moisture than any sensation, but Rial's warm hand brushed the back of his neck and pushed him back down.

"Do that . . . s'more. S'nice."

Nace smiled and complied. He liked the feel of Ree's hand there, languid and heavy. When it slipped away, brushing his shoulder then thumping the floor, he brought his head up and frowned at it, disappointed. He took it, and held it. Rial made no objection. The dragon made no motion at all. His eyes were closed.

The yellow-green touched his tongue to Ree's cheek.

The silver flinched, but not enough to bring his eyes open. "Study . . ." he said, shifting.

"No, dear one," Nace said tenderly. "You don't have to. You're all done."

"Hnn," the Pythian agreed. He rolled on his side and snuggled under one wing. Nace added another, and wrapped arms around him. Even asleep, he was so good at being hugged.

The yellow-green still stroked him, now more like a nurse or an older dragon might soothe a restless child. The back, the belly, the wings. Ree settled and his sleep grew deeper. No one came to wake him, to interrupt or tease. Maybe they hadn't noticed. Maybe they were asleep themselves; the party's energy was at low ebb, and voices were soft. Rial had a good half hour before he woke on his own.

He gasped and convulsed and his eyes came open wide, staring. "Oh, God, I fell asleep." He tried to sit up. Nace first prevented him, then helped him.

"Just a little while," the yellow-green assured.

"Did I . . . ? Did they . . ?"

"No. Nothing."

"Ohh!" Rial struck himself with a limply-curled fist, his expression pained and frustrated. "Damn it! I wanted to. I really, really wanted to."

"Sleep?"

"No. The other thing."

"We could still do that," the yellow-green offered with a smile.

Rial sat frowning, his eyes downcast. He seemed both disappointed and ashamed.

Nace touched him. ". . . Or I could hold you, and you could sleep a little more."

The silver actually sniffled.

"Oh, come here," Nace begged him. He wrapped his arms around the dragon's middle and stretched out on the floor beside him. "Come here. Come here now. It's all right. I don't mind. I like to hold you. You feel good."

"I feel stupid."

"You're not," Nace said. "You're nice. Let me be nice to you."

Rial slept against him, curled into a little ball.

He was one of a pile of dragons. He didn't quite know how it got started, but now all of them were in here. He had his muzzle between someone's legs, and was licking awkwardly. Someone else had a hand between his, and was rubbing there. There were others on top of him, pinning him, by accident more than design. Biting was allowed, but not scratching or hitting. Touching undertails was allowed, though not required. Orgasms were hoped for but not really expected. It was comfortable contact, warm and damp and writhing. It was fun.

"Ow!" someone cried. "Who bit me? That's too hard!"

"Sorry."

"You can bite me hard," Nace put in. "I don't mind."

"Where are you?"

The yellow-green twitched a hand and a leg, all he could manage.

"Ow! Quit it!" Whoever it was, he'd obviously got hold of the wrong dragon.

"You play too rough! You have to go sit in the corner!"

Someone left them. The pile collapsed in on itself, closing the space. Nace had to worm his way out of it, and it took a while. When he emerged he saw Nirez, sitting in the corner as he had been bid.

"Aw," Nace murmured. He disentangled himself and went over. "You didn't really have to go . . ."

"They'd start biting back," the copper said. "Or kick me. They don't like it. I get too excited."

"I don't think you do," Nace said. "I like it."

Nirez smiled at him, half-smiled, but he shook his head. "No. You don't really."

"I do, though," Nace said. There was an eager edge to his voice that made Nirez prick up his ears. "I really do!"

Nai leaned forward and very gently, even lighter than how they'd been biting in the pile, nipped Nace on the shoulder. The yellow-green smiled. He tipped his head and exposed his throat. "Here."

The copper chewed his lower lip for a moment, eyes cast to one side. Evidently no one was going to come and tell him to stop. He bit, carefully . . . and then a little harder.

"Mm," said Nace.

Nirez let go immediately. "No?"

"No, yes," Nace said. He snickered at himself and clarified, "Do it more."

The copper slipped around behind him, put hands on his shoulders, and touched teeth to the back of the yellow-green's neck. Nace shivered and made a sound. This time Nirez did not withdraw. He bit down, moved a little and bit again. Nace parted his wings, clearing a path all the way down his tail.

It didn't hurt. Maybe a little at the beginning, like a pinch, but then it was warm and tingly and intensely good. How much of this was his own peculiarity and how much was just anyone's reaction to being repeatedly pinched, he couldn't know. Pain always left a little pleasure in its wake, that was just the body's way of coping. It was the same mechanism that allowed a half-dead soldier to crawl to the safety of a field station. It left Nace feeling hot and shivery and a little bit high.

He couldn't stop thinking of Oraz, which was a bit of a pity, because Nai didn't bite anything like him. Oraz found a secure place, a shoulder, a wing or the throat, clamped on and didn't let go. That made a faint rainbow of sensation, from pain to pleasure to numbness and back again. The copper moved around, exploring, and never bit for more than a moment in any one place. He would move and bite beside it, but never exactly the same place ever again, like some ardent lover determined to cover the object of his affection in kisses. There was the same variety in sensation, but it came in sharp shocks, sometimes all pleasure, or just a playful little pinch and then nothing until he bit again. Mostly he kept to Nace's back and wings, good places, but not the place the yellow-green liked best. Just as well. If Nirez had directed such attention at his throat, Nace might've passed out on the floor.

And that would do nothing but scare the nice dragon who was making him feel so good.

The feeling was mutual. Nirez quite enjoyed the texture of the young slave's scales. They were tender, and the flesh beneath them firm but not tense. The yellow-green didn't tense at all, he just made noises, and sometimes shuddered in his whole body and out to the tips of his wings. Nirez pressed him to the floor and lay on top of him, sometimes curled with his weight centered on the dragon's back, sometimes stretched out and matching limb to limb like a shadow. He felt every tiny reaction, and adored them. At last his teeth found Nace's throat, and the yellow-green made a stifled little moan.

Nai licked where he had bitten, grooming, then he moved his muzzle to the yellow-green's ear. "Can I . . . ?" he whispered, then bit again and nuzzled close. "Did you ever . . . ? Before . . . ?" He was panting. He moved his hips, and a particular warmth touched the side of Nace's tail.

"I did before," Nace murmured back. "It was okay. It hurt a little." He was too dazed to be anything but truthful.

"Wait . . ." the copper said. He crawled backwards to a seated position, claws prickling at Nace's back all the way. Nirez dipped his muzzle and licked himself damp, sodden almost. He was ashamed to find himself drooling a little, but only a little. He lay back down, nipped and whispered again, "I'll be careful . . . really careful . . ."

Nace nodded to that, but he didn't care what Nirez did with his undertail, as long as he didn't stop biting.

He did stop, actually, while he slipped his hardness carefully inside, focusing everything on that. Nai didn't want to hurt. He had bitten hard, and even brought blood in a few places, but Nace had given no reaction of pain. This was different. Difficult, because he wanted it just as badly. He went slowly, in small increments, with his body tense and his hands supporting him to either side.

Nace found him smaller than the dark gold, and quite slick, but the feeling still made him a little uncomfortable, perhaps because he expected it to. It was a full sensation, and tight, a little too tight, though Nai seemed to find no fault with it. The copper shut his eyes and lapped gratefully at Nace's neck, happy for the moment just as he was.

Then he bit again, bit and held while he withdrew.

The yellow-green's senses came alight in abject confusion. Good. Bad. No. Yes. Scared . . . He arched and groaned thickly. More. More. The good feeling, the security of being held, pinned and bitten, overrode all else. He went limp in his entire being, and when the copper pressed into him again, pressed and filled him with damp, slick warmth that seemed to loosen the hinges in his spine, it was good. It was more than good. It was sexy. Incredible. He arched his back and lifted his tail, hands on the floor with claws scraping runners, inviting more, wanting again.

Nai was in no condition to deny him now, even if Nace had reacted with pain. He went again and again, with the yellow-green squirming beneath him and loving it. Nace didn't notice when he came, only when he stopped, and withdrew, and didn't come back. Then the yellow-green made a disappointed whine.

The copper hugged him--too tight!--and lapped frantically at his muzzle, like a student much too eager to please. "Oh! Let me . . . Let me . . ." A hand fumbled at his hip and tried to work its way beneath him. Nace rolled on his side and submitted in self defense, but the hand that found him was clutching and clawed. "Ouch!"

Nai dropped him on the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry! Oh!" Both hands were in his mouth and he was biting his nails. Nace looked up at him, snickered, and pawed at him until he let them down.

"Just bite me again," the yellow-green said. He touched the base of his throat where it curved into his right shoulder, the place of the scar. "Here. Don't let up."

Nai mouthed at him, reluctant, his teeth hardly touching. "'Ere?"

"Lower. Harder. There . . ." Nace sighed. The air hissed in his constricted throat. He closed his eyes, thought of biting--thought of Oraz, because he couldn't help it--and dropped his hand between his legs. He made hardly a sound, he didn't have the breath for it. When he came, on the edge of darkness, it was like touching the stars.

"--what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it!" SMACK!

"No," Nace managed hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "Oraz . . ."

"Don't hurt him!" Rial cried, so close, too close, and right in his ear. The silver was holding him. "Why would you want to hurt him? Why would you do that?"

"He said don't stop! He said don't stop!" Nirez shouted at the other ear, like a parrot with only one phrase to call its own. "He said it was okay! He said don't stop!"

"I say stop." Another voice. Softer. Calmer. Anatole.

"I did," the copper protested. "Right away, I did! I did!"

"You did. Now go away." The fiery-gold leaned into his vision. There was a halo of some blurriness around him, but that was clearing. "Nace? Do you see me? Do you know where you are?"

"Party?" the yellow-green replied uncertainly. He had thought somewhere else for a minute, but, no . . . "Right?" he asked, more sure of himself.

"Yeah. Good." Anatole left him and walked off, shaking his head. "God, sometimes I wonder about you, Nai . . ." He didn't go to Nai. He sort of wandered, talking to himself.

"Not his fault," Nace said. He sat up on his own, shedding Ree's assistance. "I did ask. Honest. I thought it'd be nice. I didn't think I'd pass out, really . . ."

"You asked," Dulio said, weighting each word, "for all of this?"

"All of what?"

"'All of what?' he says." The rosy-gold rolled his eyes. "Come on, darling. Help me if you can." He gave a steady arm and brought Nace to his feet. "I'll see to you this time. Ree, leave off of him. The toilet's built for blowjobs, not for orgies."

". . . what?" the silver managed, when they were halfway out the door.

"Double occupancy," Dulio replied, and he shut the door behind them.

The toilets were always brightly lit. The light in fortress proper varied, and the light in the cells stopped just short of eye-bleeding, but the toilets were like the second coming of God. Any mess made would be picked out in accusitory detail. Nevertheless, there was quite a bit of damage done here, public toilets saw the worst of it. Mirrors scored and shattered, obsceneties etched on the walls. There wasn't any actual shit lying about, and that was a relief. The lid over the pit was intact and kept out the worst of the smell. The industrial disinfectant made a completely different one.

Nace blinked and wrinkled his nose.

"Best seat in the house," Dulio said, indicating the closed lid. There was just enough room for him to stand beside it. "Only for you, light of my life."

"Do I have to?"

"I'm not going to have you into the infirmary at three of the morning. Cold water and tissue will have to do. It's good enough for most cadets, you know."

"Why do you keep saying . . ." On the way to the lid, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. It was broken, but there was a large intact piece in the middle. In the harsh light, the blood on his scales seemed almost purple. "Oh, hell." There wasn't much room to examine the rest of himself, but his neck and shoulders were gaily dotted with little red weals. It looked, not painful, but incredibly stupid. "Am I still bleeding?"

"Not much, but not for lack of trying." The red-gold tore a long strip of tissue, then made several shorter pieces of it. Each of these he dampened under the cold tap. The cheap paper almost melted when wet, but Dulio balled it carefully in his fingers. "Almost as good as sticking plaster, and free for the taking. Now, let's see . . ."

The cold water stung, and then it felt really, really good. Nace made a hiss that ended as a sigh. He must have been hurting, at least a little, for this to feel so good. He hadn't felt a bit of it at the time.

He sat with his eyes closed against the painful light while Dulio mopped him up, and pressed tissue over the few punctures that wouldn't be stopped with cold water alone. When Nace checked the mirror again, the marks had faded to a delicate sort of pink. Some of them probably wouldn't even show without this awful light. He felt a little less stupid, now that he looked less stupid, but not much. There were pinkish wads of tissue stuck on him in places, too.

"You still look like hell," Dulio offered, beside him.

"Thanks," Nace said sickly. He regarded the rosy-gold in the mirror. "You too." The dragon's eyes were bloodshot, and bruised-looking underneath. In the Godlight, he looked washed out, tired.

"Feh." Dulio turned his muzzle away. "No one's handsome at three in the morning, that's why it's so fucking dark." He banged open the door and led Nace into the comparative dimness of the hall. Nace stopped him, once they were out of the awful light. When they went back, everyone would be after him again, trying to make certain he was okay. It would be bright and confusing and loud, and the rosy-gold would be back to joking every other breath just to fend them off.

"Thanks," said Nace. He stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on the dragon's cheek. "You knew what I needed. I didn't."

"Shit." Dulio rubbed the wet spot with the back of one hand. "Anyone would've seen to that. Even Nai, eventually."

"Not as good."

"Maybe not as good." The red-gold shrugged.

"You made me my drink, didn't you? When I went away and came back?"

"Guess so." He snickered. "Extra sweet. I saw you making those . . . You went after the crap in the bottom of the cans! You're like a little kid. I think you'd drink straight syrup, if you could get it."

"Guess so," Nace echoed.

"No sense at all," Dulio declared with a shake of his muzzle. "I can only hope someone nice and responsible comes and keeps you before Nirez gets the idea to take you out again. You two are no good for each other, there isn't half a brain between you."

"You can come and patch me up again any time you like," Nace said smiling. His arms hung limp to either side, and he gazed up at the Pythian with eager eyes.

"Are you coming on to me, young one?"

"Maaaybe."

The rosy-gold issued a low snort. "As attractive as an exhausted young dragon, bitten to pieces and covered in toilet paper is, I fear I really must decline."

Nace frowned, halfway to pouting, and drew in on himself. "Would you if I wasn't . . . If I hadn't . . . ?"

Dulio took both his hands and nosed at his muzzle until he brought it up. "Now, it's not really that," he said. "I'm just more of a social fucker. It was fun when we all were, but now it all feels sort of serious." He thinned his voice to a stage whisper and leaned in closer, "I'll tell you a secret: I don't really like males all that much anyway. I want a female, someday. Not that I'm saving myself or anything, don't get that idea."

"Oh, no, never." Nace shook his muzzle, wide-eyed. To assume any such thing would be the height of impropriety, and it wasn't true anyway. He had been with the others. Sort of. Maybe nothing at the intimacy of what Nai just did to him, or even Rial . . .

"Anyway, it's not you, love," the rosy-gold said. "Well, maybe it's a little you. You're too nice. Too sweet. If you were a girl . . . Ahh," he sighed. "If my mother had balls she'd've fucked my dad. Come on now. Let's make sure they haven't killed Nai or eaten him or something."

They hadn't done that, but someone--maybe Nirez himself, he looked guilty enough--had upended an ice bucket over the copper's head. He was standing in the middle of the room, shivering, and being pointedly ignored.

Nace ran to him, slipping a little on the wet floor, and wrapped him in both wings. "Oh, no. No. No! Isn't there a blanket? Won't someone give him a blanket?" There had been blankets, there had been one for each bed, up until just now, apparently. "Really!" Nace said. He huffed a breath. "If no one will give him a blanket, I-I'm going to be quite cross!"

"Really!" Dulio echoed, his voice high and breathy. (Nace hoped he hadn't sounded quite like that.) "You mustn't make the walking wounded cross. If he stamps his little feet, he'll dislodge all that toilet paper, won't he?"

No laughter, but a grudging disclosure of blankets from under tails and beneath folded arms. Nace snatched the first two and bundled the copper inside. "There, now! Is that better? A little better?"

Nirez just stared at him, oblivious of cold and blankets and everything. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me. I loved every bit of it. I don't even hurt now." True. He had, a few moments before, but he had forgotten all about that.

"You're all marked up. You look awful."

"You too," Nace said, and kissed away a tear. "Nobody looks handsome at three of the morning. I have it on good authority that's why it's always dark."

They were sleeping, most of them, in a little clump. There had been a brief spate of activity, a second wind accompanied by way too much drinking, at about five o'clock and now they were spent. Ree and Nirez were sharing a mat, no room for animosity in exhaustion's embrace. Ana was neighboring, propped up against the wall, head tipped back and a snore in his throat. Bela rested his head in the fiery-gold's lap, bundled in his wings with his knees drawn up to his chest, a curiously childish pose. Dulio was nearby, sprawled on his back with his limbs sticking out every which way. He cycled between totally unconscious and sort of awake but too comfortable to move. Nace had settled near Ree, half on a mat and spilling on to the floor. He was awake, vaguely, and a little cold. Eventually he gathered consciousness enough to sit up and look for a blanket.

Ciero was sitting on the floor, on the other side of the room, fishing the remaining ice out of a bucket of water and crunching it down with desultory resolve. He had the look of one sulking, as Rial had sulked before, but Nace knew that wasn't it. Rial's displeasure had been vague, transient, more tiredness than anything else. The sort of childish pout that commands attention and leaves once some has been given. Ciero was in a deep blue study, closed to everyone but himself. He slumped, staring at the floor or perhaps a mile through it. Here was a Pythian so beaten down by pressure and demand and fortress life in general that he couldn't even sit up straight anymore.

Nace did not think the dragon wanted to be disturbed, and he remembered the bronze's quickness to anger, and willingness to snap. He had started out this evening with Bela, trying to be careful, trying not to give up or give away too much, trying not to be hurt. He'd failed at that, utterly, but they still hadn't hurt him, not even when they had. Which made not one iota of sense, but it was six in the morning, he'd been at this for more than twelve hours, and there was no sense left in him. A few more bites wouldn't make much difference at this point, anyway.

"It's not so bad, is it?" he asked Ciero, drawing near.

"No," the bronze replied, not looking up. "You want some ice?" He didn't precisely offer the bucket. He pushed it with one absent hand as if he were disgusted with it.

No, Nace didn't want ice, he was cold. He sat on the other side of the bucket and had a piece.

"It's melting," Ciero said with a sigh. "We paid for it." These two thoughts together seemed inexpressibly sad.

"You'll save up and get some more some time," Nace said. "It's winter, anyway. You'll have snow soon, if you want it."

Ciero shrugged. "Not my point."

Nace didn't posit another one for him, waiting quietly instead.

"Everything goes," the bronze muttered.

Nace sat forward, waiting still.

"We won't be together by the time we've saved up again. Even if we are, it won't be for long after. It won't be a transfer, nothing as easy as that. We're too different. We're the same squad, but we're all going different ways. Nothing to keep us together. We'll grow apart. Everything goes."

"You think they'll leave you," Nace said.

Ciero shrugged again, but this time he could barely manage it. "I'm a flyer. It's the only thing I'm any good at. That means being alone. Some of them will stick together, I guess. Ree and Ana are joined at the tails. Nai had better find somebody to look after him before he gets himself killed. But I'll be alone. I never had friends. I won't make any others."

I'm alone, the yellow-green thought for him. Not 'I was' or 'I will be,' but 'I am.' I always was. I always will be. He'd heard much the same before, not in so many words, but the same idea. You'll leave me. You're going places. I'm not.

"It's not true," Nace said, to both of them. "You have friends now. You had them, for how long. . . ?"

"Primary school, most of them. Ana a little later, I guess."

"Why would they go now?"

"Because they can."

"No, they won't," Nace said. He'd been through this once before. He had said too little, then. He was afraid of saying too much, now. They treated him like one of them, and maybe he'd been brought up like one of them, and he sort of acted like one of them, but he had known them such a little time. All he knew was what he had seen, how he had watched them acting to each other, and acting with him. He should not assume, he should not assure, but he felt he had to.

More than that, he felt he was right.

"They haven't even thought of it," he said. "They wouldn't be so easy with you, or with each other, if they had. You're the only one who's thought of leaving. You're the only one who would."

Ciero expelled a hiss under his breath. He wasn't looking at Nace when he did it, but the yellow-green quailed a little, regardless.

"I would leave first," Ciero spat.

It was only because he was still looking away that the yellow-green was able to go on: "Yes. And if you were cruel enough to them, they'd let you. They'd have to. If that's what you wanted to do. You could be alone."

"It's better alone!"

Nace waited, silent, for him to say why. To come up with why. He had waited, often, for Oraz to get his tongue off a single word, before the dragon could even begin to explain. He was terribly good at waiting.

What came out finally was soft, painful, and sincere: "I'm a flyer. It's my only good thing." (Not the only thing I'm good at, not now. My only good thing, which was so much more than that.) "Flying is being alone. You have to fly alone. The wind cuts you off. The wind shuts everything up, it's so loud, even in your own head. Everything is far, and it doesn't matter, it doesn't hurt. It's just cold. Even if someone caught you, killed you, you'd never feel it. It's so cold. It wouldn't hurt," he said this fondly, too fondly. "I like the quiet, the wind. I like being where I fit, and I'm not too stupid, or too awkward, or too mean. I can only do that alone. I can always do that alone!" he added fiercely. "It's mine. It's mine always! . . . They're not," he said, a whisper. "They can't be. Never were." He had wandered, and he wasn't sure how he'd gotten where he was. It seemed he was finished. There were no more words to say. He couldn't even remember what question he was answering.

Nace hadn't asked one. There was too much pain and uncertainty here for questions. It would be like trying to pop a blister with the bowl of a spoon. No, if there was to be pain, better let it be sharp and fast.

"It's not that you think they'll leave," Nace said, telling, not asking. He was out on a limb here, but it felt soild and steady as a rock. "It's that you can't bear the thought of it." (I knew that the first time, he thought, with Oraz. Why didn't I say it? It seemed so obvious, I thought he must've known it, too.)

That did it. Ciero had been ready to cry, all the while he was talking, and now he did, gasping, shuddering sobs that went through his whole body yet hardly made a sound. A young Pythian who was bad at school, and thought he was bad at everything, learned to cry softly. Don't let the teacher know. Don't wake your friends at night . . . or your enemies. Nace wondered how many, by Ciero's age, could still cry at all.

Nace hugged him. Ciero was terrible at being hugged. He pulled back right away and even fought a little, no matter that he needed it, or wanted it. Nace would've thought to let go of him immediately, but Oraz hugged like that, too.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you," the bronze snarled in his ear.

Nace nodded to that. It was a formality, a necessity. No matter that the dragon meant every word. If he reacted with fear, Ciero might try to kill him now. If he reacted with pain, the bronze would want to kill himself. So he nodded, as if it were completely reasonable. After life in the fortress, it probably was.

He bit back his own tears, though he wanted badly to cry (for Oraz, if not for this dragon or himself). Ciero could only take it as mockery, not sympathy. Oraz would have felt the same, if he ever found himself helpless in some stranger's embrace.

He held Ciero, and--something he had not tried even with Ree--rocked him. The bronze clung to him, a near-complete stranger whom he had threatened to kill just moments before. Clung and cried and finally cried himself out.

Nace tried to comfort, not with the stupid, meaningless words that came easily, but truer ones he had to think out. "I can't say they won't ever leave you," he said slowly. It was as if he was peeling the words off, like layers of an onion, from deeper and deeper inside. "I promised I'd never leave my friends, my friend, and I love him more than anything, but God loves to make liars of people. I just . . . I know if they ever thought of it, really thought of it, they'd be as scared as you are. I know that 'cos that's how I feel right now, and I never thought of it until it happened." This last was too true, he had cut too deep. His breath caught in his throat and tears spilled from his eyes. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." If he had screwed this up, he was asking for a punch in the face, or some claws to the gut.

Ciero considered this for a moment, tense against him. Slowly, uncertainly, anxious for any rejection, his arms crept up behind Nace's wings, crossed and held him. He gave a soft sigh, both defeated and relieved, curled his muzzle over the yellow-green's shoulder and hugged him back. "Better this way," the bronze said. "Evens."

Nace was struck again by how easily these six reverted to childish words and patterns. Sometimes they sounded younger than him. That they so trusted each other was not surprising; that they made no exception for him, stranger and younger and even a slave, was incredible. The shock broke up his tears enough that he could get some words in. They were about Oraz. The dark dragon had been very much on his mind this night, sometimes happily, sometimes an intolerable weight.

Ciero listened. Perhaps he did not fully understand, but he could nod in the right places and extrapolate from the information Nace gave. In the end he pronounced them evens, and though he did not take back his threat on Nace's life, he did promise to breathe not a word he had been told.

There were a few bottles with dribbles of wine left in the bottoms. They pooled them and drank them, both feeling much too sober.

"Did you just fuck me?" Ciero said. It was a joke with a needle in it, like most of the ones he made. "'Cos, I have to say, I feel kind of like you just fucked me."

Nace considered that, pawing one side of his head. He felt a little like that, too. "Not fucking," he decided, though he fumbled for the right word. At last he found it: "Intercourse."

"Oh, shit," Ciero said. "Is that what that means? I'll have to tell Nai. I bet there's a picture in the book."

"In color," Nace said. He smiled and crept forward on his hands and knees. "I could really fuck you, if you wanted."

Ciero responded with a grin. It was a little uneven, but it was definitely a grin. "Will you do me like Bela? That looked awesome. I've done that, but I never had it done."

The yellow-green frowned at him and folded his arms in a posture of disapproval. "No, I shan't." He swept his muzzle back and forth, a huge, theatrical no. "I shan't do you like Bela, because you aren't," he gave this word two syllables, "like Bela at all." He smiled again, wider, creeping closer. "I'll do you like you."

"Oh," Ciero said, suddenly shy, either acting or perhaps really feeling the part. "Well, that's all right, I suppose."

Nace did Ciero like Ciero. He had a surprising amount of energy for it, even after the entire night. They used up all the rest of the ice. It was fun and it cheered them and they both really needed it, but it wasn't terribly intimate. They'd gotten through all that before. No more tears, just a few lingering trickles of melted ice that they licked from each other's scales.

"Come on, you guys! Please? Please, please, please?"

Ana was reluctant. Bela was confused. Ree and Nai were still yawning, Nace had only woken them at Ciero's insistence ("Nope. All of us or none of us. I'm not going to have Ree punch me out later. Not that it'd hurt, but it would be so embarrassing.") Dulio was smiling vaguely, waiting for the punchline, slowly coming to accept that this was the punchline. Well, that was funny, too.

It was eight in the morning, but they still had the room for a few hours yet.

"Please, you guys? Haven't I been good? Haven't I been really, really good?"

"It's not a matter of being good, Nace," Anatole finally said. "It just doesn't seem like much of a reward."

Nace had a hold of four leather straps from the pasteboard box. Each ended in an adjustable length of chain, and a clip. They were meant for the ringbolts. He'd sorted through the box and found just the right ones. "It is for me. It would be for me. Please?" He looked around at doubtful faces and settled on Ana's to convince. He came over all pathetic and looked at the floor. "You don't have to, if you wouldn't like it. But I'd like it, and I've been good." He smiled sweetly. "And you might maybe like it just a little bit."

Anatole folded his arms, the pose of a tough negotiator. He didn't hold it long. "All right, I'm willing to concede I might maybe like it just a little bit," he repeated this last bit fussily and could not suppress a smile. "What about the rest of you? Ciero says all or no one."

"I already said I would," the bronze added, looking around.

Bela shrugged. "I guess I will, if he wants to."

"I get to be with you?" Rial asked hesitantly. "And not . . . anything else on accident?"

Nace nodded rapidly to that. Ree didn't have to confess falling asleep in front of everyone. They probably already knew, anyway.

"I won't bite you anymore," Nirez broke in. He dipped his muzzle and backtracked, "I don't have to bite you, do I?"

The yellow-green frowned, but agreed to that, too. "You don't have to . . ." he said, leaving open the possibility that Nai could, if he wanted.

"Okay," said the copper.

"Me too," said the silver.

"Hell," said Dulio. "I'm a sucker for peer pressure. That's why I started doing heroin."

Silence. There was, perhaps, such a thing as telepathy, at least between such terribly good friends. And maybe Nace really was one of them, because he picked it up loud and clear: Leave it alone. He only said it to get attention, and if anyone says anything he'll just make some stupid remark, so just leave it alone.

Rial finally couldn't leave it alone, "We don't do heroin, Dulio."

"Really? Good Lord, I'm more susceptible than I thought. Well, let's fuck the slave, then, shall we? All the cool kids are doing it."

Nirez giggled. "I think they will be, once word of this gets out."

The straps buckled tight and flat against the yellow-green's wrists and ankles, though Ana made sure, for safety's sake, that he could slip a finger beneath each one. Then they just left him like that a while. They didn't know what to do with him. Nace made no suggestions, he didn't care, as long as it was anything they wanted. He shut his eyes, waiting for that first touch, not wanting to know who it came from or when it was coming. He should have asked them to blindfold him, but it was too late now. He was tied, at their collective mercy.

It was a kiss. A gentle one, and he could just feel the tip of the tongue behind it. Shy, but a little bit flirty. It could have been Rial, eager to touch him, eager to have him when he had missed his chance before. It could've been Anatole, taking the lead as gently as he could. It could have been Ciero, assuring him that this was all right, or Nirez, too scared to bite but helpless not to think about it. It could have been any of them.

Someone touched him, stroked his flank with a delicacy that made him shiver. Someone claimed one of his wings with a possessive grasp and began to groom it from the tip down. Someone fondled the base of his tail, making him lift it with reflexive anticipation. Someone nibbled his ear, then licked inside of it, their breath warm and heavy. There could have been a hundred of them, or just one, with a hundred limbs like a heathen idol. He loved them all. He wanted them all. All so different and yet each one the same. They loved him. They wanted him, each one differently but still the same.

They took him.

They took him.

It seemed they might never stop.

He never wanted them to.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS ROOM?!"

Nace made a tentative reacquaintence with reality. He didn't much like it. It was loud. When he tried to put hands over his ears, he smiled to find one still bolted to the floor. Oops. Missed one.

"You have one hour to clean this up! Do you hear me? One! Hour!" The Pythian paused with his hand on the door, considering. "And I'm charging you for the hour!" He slammed it behind him, making the hinges rattle and the pile of dazed dragons groan.

"An hour?" someone said. "We can't pay for another hour. We're broke."

"Someone's gonna hafta blow him," said another.

Another collective groan.

"I'll do it," Nace offered. "I don't mind."

"That legal?"

"Dunno. He's ours until we take him back . . ."

"Yeah, but then he's anybody's. And we hafta take him back."

Silence at that, and a little sadness. Nace swallowed a pang. He didn't want to go.

The yellow-green pushed himself to a seated position. He was the first to manage it, and the others soon followed the example. They sat looking around, flinched and squinting in the light. There were half-eaten sandwiches, puddles of sticky-damp juice, broken bottles, broken cups, and a shocking red substance was dripping from the ceiling. The ceiling, which they had all been looking at and not quite processing. At about five in the morning, they'd started sticking things to the ceiling. Wet things. Toilet paper, mostly, and the crepe. Damp red crepe, which was dribbling dye down the walls and on to the floor.

"Red fucking crepe," Bela said with a groan. "Whose mental diarrhea was that?"

"Mine," Nai admitted. "I did the room. I wanted it nice."

Silence again. It had been nice. No one could come up with anything suitably vicious to say.

Bela at last made an attempt at it, "Fuck is 'Happy' s'posed to mean, anyway?"

"I run outta chalk."

The tail end of the 'y' was a bit lighter than the rest.

"C'mon," said Anatole, staggering to his feet. "If he wrote more, we'd just have to clean off more. We've got an hour. Whoever blows the desk clerk, let's not make him do it twice."

Nace helped them. They didn't ask him to, but they didn't have to. They'd made him one of them, and he would stay that way, at least until they took him back. He got a moment with just about everyone, to say goodbye before they really had to say goodbye. He gave Rial a boost to scrape half a chicken sandwich off the ceiling. He helped Bela tuck the bed rolls together and fold the blankets. He held the dustbin while Ciero swept glass into it. He made Dulio laugh, even though it hurt both their heads. Most importantly, he bottlenecked Nirez alone in the bathroom while the copper was dumping a sack full of wet paper into the sewer.

"Listen. You need to tell him."

"Whaat?" Nai had responded pettishly, only wanting to get out of the glare.

"You know." And that stopped him cold, because Nai did know. There was no need to ennumerate the countless little kindnesses, the way he hung around the bronze and interceeded on his behalf, the way he picked fights, soft, simple fights that were easily lost, how quick he was to blunt or bolster Ciero's words when the others took some offense. No need to bring up how Nai had never gone to Ciero for sex, not once, over the course of the entire evening. If the others hadn't been his dearest friends, they would've seen it written on him like a sign.

"Oh my God, you didn't--"

"No. Not a word, but you need to. Get him alone somewhere and tell him. He needs you. He might not want you just the same, but he needs you. Do it soon." And then he'd said a hurtful thing, but it needed saying. It would push Nai to act if nothing else would. "He thinks you'll leave him."

"Oh, no," the copper said. He sat on the open toilet and buried his head in his hands. "Oh, no, no, no. Never, never, never . . ."

Nai hugged all right, a little too tightly, but that was all right. Nace thought Ciero would like it just fine.

So, he'd managed the important things. He missed Anatole somehow, but the red-gold volunteered to take him back to the cells, so they would have a little time together. The other goodbyes were mercifully quick.

"No crying, you pansies," Bela warned. "You're soldiers, Goddammit."

Ree and Nai did look a little misty, but they kept hold of themselves. Rial kissed him, and Nirez hugged him again. One could get used to a tight hug like that. It was bracing, reassuring. If only he were a little more careful with it . . .

"Goodbye, Nace."

"Goodbye, and thanks--"

"Yeah. For everything."

Ciero shook his hand. It was cold and impersonal and a little weird, but understandable.

"Take care."

Dulio snatched him and hugged him, "Yeah, for God's sake."

Bela took both of his hands and squeezed. He looked a little misty, too, despite earlier admonishments to the contrary. "You were awesome. Don't let anybody tell you different."

"'Bye," said Nace, to one and to all. It was all he could manage. It was easier when he got farther away, when he didn't have to see them anymore, but there was still Anatole. The yellow-green almost wished he could've gone back to the cells on his own, but he appreciated the red-gold's touch. Ana didn't try to guide him or bind him or push him, he just held hands, like they were kids. Little kids. It wasn't tight or secure like being tied, but it was so trusting. It made Nace feel all squishy inside.

Ana stopped him, turned him and crouched down to his eye level when they were just a few steps from the entrance to the cells. Nace gazed back into his clear green eyes.

Oh, he'll make me go away again, the yellow-green thought, and it was a happy thought, but no such dalliance was on the red-gold's mind.

"Listen, I wanted to ask you . . . I need to ask. How do you feel about a yellow collar?"

"A yellow collar?" Nace blinked at him, trying to clear up his head and understand. "A slave's collar?"

"Yeah."

"A yellow one? I don't know what that means, I've never seen one."

"Yeah," Anatole said with a sigh. He dropped his gaze. "It's not common, it . . . My mother had one." He pushed that topic away with visible effort. "It means willing. Willing to be used, to be a slave. It means you won't fight, not 'cos you're too weak to fight, not like a green collar, but . . . Just 'cos you won't. You don't want to."

"I don't want to," Nace agreed, wide-eyed. He touched his collar. "I-I'd like a collar that said that. It'd be safer, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah!" The red-gold nodded eager agreement. Part of it was relief. His upbringing had been weird, and he was weird. Sometimes when he brought up stuff like this, people noticed. But Nace didn't notice, didn't care, didn't even ask, and Ana was grateful. "I'll put you in for one. We all will. That's probably not enough to make the change, but if some other dragons made note of it, if you asked them to . . ."

"I could do that!" Nace thought he could, most of the time, if the dragon that had him out wasn't too incredibly dominant. "I'd really like that. Thank you! Thank you for telling me." He flung arms around the red-gold and kissed him right on the muzzle.

"Aw," said Ana. "Thank you, too. For everything."

Nace came back to the cells some moments later, in the company of a guard. Anatole couldn't bear the long goodbye, and Nace had left him as soon as they reached the keeper of the keys. The guard was not quite so gentle with him, but that was all right. Ana certainly couldn't afford a tip. The bright light seemed rather cruel, though.

When Cym saw him being pushed along, staggering with slitted eyes, bruised and battered and bitten to pieces, almost twenty-four hours after he had bidden the yellow-green goodbye, he scrambled to the front of his cell, anxious with concern. "Nace, are you all right?"

"I'm hungover," the yellow-green said. As soon as the guard had his door open, he crawled inside and went right for his blanket. "I admit it. I'm going to sleep." He draped the ragged cloth over his muzzle and sighed relief. Darkness was as comfortable as a long, slow screw on a feather bed, and much more welcome.

Cym nodded vaguely, unseen. "Were . . . Were the three of them very bad to you?"

Nace smiled. Even with the blanket on him, Cym could see the smile. It was wide and daffy and incredibly content.

"Oh, no," the yellow-green said through a yawn. "All six of them were wonderful."

"Six?" cried Cym, but Nace was sleeping.

That's all for now. You know what happens with Oraz, anyway, and you know Cym doesn't make it out of this mess alive. However, you also know that Nace gets out in the end, so that's nice. I did say Sidro would be okay. I just have to get through this story before I get to that one. Sorry I'm so frickin' slow. I got . . . issues. Doin' the best that I can!

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