Work Text:
The Blue King
by Sam-Tony/HawkDancing
"No."
Chuckling into the receiver, Henry Fitzroy hitched a bit higher onto the desk while picking up another sheaf of drawings; concept work for his next novel. "You don't even know what I was going to say," he chided.
"Ok, you're right."
Tucking the phone against his shoulder, Henry grinned at the mea culpa - or, more importantly, at the clearly humoring tone it had been delivered in. "So, detective - "
"No."
Henry tsked sadly, knowing Mike could hear the wide smile in his equally false moue of regret. "So, I take it the naked mud wrestling is out, then?"
This time a chuckle came over the line and Henry could hear the cop shop buzz dull in the background and the squeak of Celluci's abused desk chair as the detective leaned back. "That was an option?"
"No, not really." Discarding one of the sketches for costuming ideas, Henry made a face and set it aside. Somehow he couldn't see the fair Lila fighting the ogres of Leiland in a wedding dress and veil; Vicki would have demanded it couldn't be done and worn jeans - or in this case, mercenary gear - to her own wedding anyway.
"Shame."
Henry smiled, his mind obligingly casting a half-naked Mike Celluci in wrestling cloth and not much else, emerging from a square, mud-filled arena... Very nice.
"Isn't it? I need a favor."
"No."
"Mike."
"Ask Vicki."
"I did - "
"And?" The cheerfully malicious question led him to believe that, not only did Mike already know the favor Henry needed, he had already talked to Vicki and knew what her reaction had been.
"She refused."
"Gee can't imagine why."
This time the sigh was all too real and Henry put down the drawings in slight exasperation. "Mike, it's only a comic book convention."
"Uh huh. And how many of these things have you been to, Henry?"
"Quite a few, actually," the vampire admitted, reluctantly. "For Heaven's sake Mike, they're only children - "
The snort was not encouraging. "Right - 40 year old Trekkies and Lord of the Rings fans out on a Saturday with nothing better to do but pull out every damned artifact they own out of the back of the closet and flock down to the convention center for four hours of enough unadulterated geek speak that no sane person would even still *be* sane once it was all over."
Unable to help himself, Henry smiled. All very true, and to he and Mike, they were still children...
"Mike - I need to bring someone to model a character from Knight's Kingdom."
"So you do it."
"I can't, it's in the contract." Henry sighed, rubbing his temples on the headache that, thanks to his very nature, he wasn't able to have anymore, but willing to swear he was getting anyway. "Besides, you're the inspiration behind The Blue King anyway."
On the other end, Mike sighed and Henry had the strangest feeling he wasn't the only one rubbing his head. "And I believe when you first came up with that idea I told you it was going to come back and bite me in the butt one day."
"You did." Henry confirmed, not above begging at this point. He needed a model to work beside him and he really didn't want to use anyone but Mike since he - or rather, his Kryptonian past as Mik-El - had been the original inspiration for Henry's latest graphic novel series.
Besides, Henry had been wanting to get the older immortal back into his home-world clothing for months now. Being able to draw the 'hereditary tattoos' on all that smooth skin would just be an added bonus that had nothing at all to do with the fact that Henry's artistic fingers had been itching for an excuse to break out the ink and henna brush. "Please, Mike?"
"You know I can't say no when you do that," Mike accused, only half-kidding. "And you do it on purpose."
Knowing Mike had just agreed, Henry smiled and let the warmth fill his voice one step below the low rumble of his vampiric charm; it had never worked on the other man anyway. "You won't regret it," he promised, smiling slyly. "I'll even make it up to you."
"Yes I will - and you most certainly will," Mike told him, an answering warmth turning the warning into the idle threat that it was; not that Mike wouldn't find a way to make Henry pay for tomorrow night, because Henry knew he would. He also knew without a doubt that he would enjoy it. Immensely. Repeatedly.
Henry shivered in anticipation.
"Damn, I have to go." Mike said regretfully, cursing, and Henry could hear the door to his desk being opened and slammed closed, could imagine Mike holstering his gun and clipping it to his belt; heard the rustling of cloth that was Mike reaching for his coat. "Some yahoo just called in a hostage situation downtown."
Henry frowned in concern, all - or most - of the carnal thoughts forgotten. "Need any help?"
Activity stopped and Henry could hear the familiar warmth return as Mike denied, "I'll be fine. You stay and finish up the final boards for Leiland's Legacy before Vicki comes after you for putting her in a wedding dress in the first place. Even if you did make her a Queen."
"A Queen who can kick ass," Henry chuckled and resolutely shoved the feeling of worry aside. "She might have mentioned that."
"I'll bet. I'll be fine, Henry. I promise."
"Just don't go throwing yourself into the path of any bullets," Henry warned, only half-smiling. "I need a smooth canvas to work on tomorrow night and bullet holes might tend to detract from medieval authenticity."
"Cute." Celluci grumbled into the receiver. "On the other hand, if I'm killed in the line of duty, it would save me from comic-book Hell..."
--
The following night found Henry tracing the faintly tribal, swirling tattoos painted on the large body with his tongue as Mike gasped and tangled one hand in Henry's long hair, sprawling Henry on top of him and holding the smaller immortal down with one arm as Mike claimed his mouth in a thorough kiss.
A few hours earlier, Mike had accepted the ink and Henry's touch while plotting and muttering revenge, with Coreen snapping a couple of pictures for her scrap album and Vicki sat in one of Henry's more comfortable chairs and smirked.
The revenge had yet to come to pass, though Henry knew it would eventually. And, while the convention itself hadn't been as bad as Mike had feared, nor had it been a thing to be repeated, no matter that Mike had gotten quite a few appreciative glances - and more than glances - decked out in his former Kryptonian splendor.
Personally, Henry could admit to admiring the cool blue color of the trews, open tunic, and the headband that played up Mike's eyes - and the sturdy construction had certainly came in handy when patience had been worn thin by those same glances and a long car ride home. Not to mention the sword, though peace-bonded, that Mike had worn at his side, and the comfortable, confident way he had carried it.
Henry admired strength and power, it was in both aspects of his nature, human and vampire alike, and there had been no doubt to anyone in the room tonight that Mike Celluci had exuded both.
He wondered if Mike would be willing to don a bit more if the Blue King's jewelry, if only in private. After all, Henry's latest work was an adult graphic series, and Mike would look so very good with various delicate body parts pierced, wearing gold rings and chains...
The body under him rumbled as Mike chuckled. "You're thinking again."
Looking up the long length of tanned skin and black lines, Henry settled a bit more comfortably on him and raised his eyebrows. "Of course I'm thinking. What else would I possibly be doing with such a feast spread before me other than thinking of the best ways to devour it?"
"Oh, I don't know," Mike's brows rose in time with his. "Maybe doing a bit of that devouring sounds good."
Henry smirked and made a courtly bow - or as much of one as he could while lying draped over his 'king'. "As you wish..."
In the end, it wasn't just Mike who was devoured, though Henry could quite cheerfully admit that he was very glad he had gotten his apartment reinforced and sound proofed after that whole debacle with Akhekh's priest. Nightmares did tend to sound a lot like sex to some, and Henry had no doubt that his neighbors had become very tired of hearing his screaming by the time the work had been completed.
Between the two of them, the bed had pounded the wall, though it hadn't broken, not this time, and all of the pillows had been thrown to the floor along with most of the sheets, leaving both men lying sprawled, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied over a mostly bare mattress. Mike dropped a haphazard kiss on Henry's forehead as Henry threaded their fingers together, bringing them up to his lips in benediction.
"All in all, I think it's a very good thing I'm already dead," he chuckled breathlessly, feeling his body winding down and not really wanting to move, sheets, blankets and pillows or no. "Otherwise, I think you killed me. I don't even care that I'll be sleeping, splattered and sticky, without sheets."
His body rumbled as Mike made a sound that was probably more amusement and agreement than anything else. "Well, if I could get you up for a minute, I could change that."
Henry's chuckle was deep and all but purred with satisfaction as he denied, "You've already gotten me up, detective - quite a few times, in fact."
"Well once more will get you clean sheets and a newly made bed," Mike promised. "No need for sleeping on a bare mattress."
"Well fine, if you're going to appeal to my sybaritic nature," Henry griped but eased out of the strong arms and out of bed. "Well?"
Taking off his necklace and placing the little bit of meteorite into the lead-lined box on the nightstand (still miraculously upright), Mike rushed out of the room in a blur of tanned skin that even Henry's vampire-enhanced eyes had a hard time tracking, only to speed back in. Next Henry blinked, the bed had not only been remade, but with clean sheets. Mike stood beside it smirking.
Henry just wrapped his arms around the larger body and deadpanned, grinning, "What? No wash cloth?"
End
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