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Showstopper

Edwin woke up.

. . .he woke up?

He didn't understand. His heavy eyelids fluttered open, the caress of silk sheets and supple blanket hugging his frame. The thrumming ambiance of the Glorium Maxa's Arcanacore mingled with the muffled sounds of the peaceful master bedroom, dim orange light resting over his body from a single lit lamp. He thought he heard the sweet, lullaby-esque hum of a nearby figure, along with the distant scent of cut meat, cooked food, and sweet drink. Pleasant. It was pleasant, heavenly even.

It wasn't supposed to be that way.

He pushed up, grabbing at his neck. The sensation of a shaped object met his palm, the necklace. It wasn't gone. No forgetting. Edwin touched his head, and realized – he wasn't delirious, drunk, or buzzed. He was thinking clearly, his mind scuttled of alcohol for the first time in. . . years? Years. He reached out for a bottle, but found none. He didn't understand.

He was resting? Peacefully? Without alcohol? No, no, even with drink sleep was hard, and in that slumber he had the dreams, the nightmares. But this time, he didn't. What. . . changed?

As he sat up, realization swept through him. His eyes adjusted, senses returned. There, at the farside of the airship's luxury room, sat the figure of lithe frame and effete qualities, his legs crossed, knife in hand as he dutifully cut through a slab of seasoned summer ham. Aloise. The day previous. Those lips, his kiss, his touch, his words. . .

He stared. This wasn't processing right. Aloise, like Pik, had been with him for a long while. A person at his ankles, escaping from his own past. That's all it was, right? Like Pik. They – the three – were a home without a home, with only the free roads to guide them. And, besides, Aloise was an Incubi. He had the nature of a daemon. It wasn't like what he did was. . .

What? What was it?

There lacked a weight, for some reason. The fogginess, the cold dampness of the marsh, vacant. The haunting – at least for the moment – was absent. There, in a flash, Edwin's thoughts raced back into his mind, remembering the dark clutches of Dagados, only to see the grassy knoll free of dark waters, and then the blossoming flower of pink. At once, Edwin shook his head. Knock it off. Don't start feeding into lies, not again. It goes nowhere.

But. It felt. Good.

While he stared, Aloise's ears perked. The effete rabbit shifted his gaze, seeing the wakened marshlander. “And here I zhought you'd sleep zhe day off."

“Jeeze bog-brain," chirped the smaller, girlish tone of Pik, who was near the table, minding her cauldron. “What kinda' gunk you huffed last night? And where do I get it!?"

She looked towards Aloise and gave him a knowing smirk. Aloise chuckled.

Edwin's guard vanished, and he didn't know what to think. “Er. What, how. . . how long was I out? What time is it?"

Aloise turned back to the meat and continued cutting. He wiggled his free hand in the air. “Almost noon."

His graceful hand pushed down and in one commanding cut, a perfect section of soft flesh peeled from the food. “Ah, zhe cooks here, zhey never can get the slice just right. . . hope you don't mind, Eddy. Called in for some food."

Edwin could smell it, such an exquisite aroma. Actual food, a meal crafted by professionals, not street vendors. Luxury.

Luxury?

“Oh, no, it's fine," he said, out of sorts. “I don't think I ate."

The words stumbled out of him. They didn't like his own, almost, free of weight or burden. In fact, all of him was just lighter. No, this was so off, this made no sense. It couldn't have been the fucking. No discredit to Aloise, who was, well, a sexual daemon by trade. The fuck was good, and he'd done it before in his blurry, drunken states. Pik too was often happy to oblige when Edwin didn't want to see straight and just wanted a sensation beyond the nightmare of himself. But, even when his groggy eyelids stretched open and he remembered to keep at least a percentage of his body filled with alcohol, he didn't feel clear, or lighter, or lifted.

He looked at Aloise and Pik, glancing between them. Studied them. Studied the bun, especially. He was new, somehow. Inviting, but not in the usual way. Suddenly, Edwin could see all the other aspects of his frame, like the way his teardrop tail wiggled just so, or how his ears perked with his movements. How his practiced, slender hands angled and cut food with precision, how the light the danced on his white-cream fur. He noticed him in the casual ways, from his perfectly manicured nails to the excessive care of his tight fitting suit-vest attire.

And Pik, sweet Pik, a violent concoction of smoke rising from her cauldron, she looked so friendly and alluring now. Warm, his friend, his other companion.

He clutched at his neck, feeling the totem.

He. . . what. . . it. . .

He was happy? He was happy. It didn't hurt right now.

“Eeedddy!" whined Aloise. “Out of bed! Come now, eat!"

Edwin was in an airship miles above the countryside with with a shortstack Yoklin girl and daemonic bun among company from all over the world, potentially inhabited by supernatural entities as indicated by Zetsu.

Maybe. . . maybe he could be happy for a little while.

“Okay," he said.

As the three dug into brunch, Aloise mused over plans. The food itself was exquisite. Cuts of seasoned meat set with honeybread and peachcream tarts accented by whipped goose eggs, redberries, and sautéed veggies. Aloise had himself a dark wine, Pik a frothy brew of shroombeer, and Edwin water. Good water, the kind lacking critters.

“Zhere is a wonderful opera tonight," said Aloise, thinking it over. “Damonte's Sonnet of Autumn. Ooo, or, Kchurchkev's play, Atheus, and I hear Sergei Yurov is playing Marsande!"

PIk munched an egg. “Bfughf?"

Aloise blushed, about to speak again, but quieted, looking between Pik and Edwin. “Oh. But. Um."

He cleared his throat, adjusting himself. “Zhere is, ahm, a floramaster on board, Pik. Zhey might have plants from as far as Vyskaal!"

Edwin blinked. Wait, was Aloise trying to be nice? To Pik? Suggesting something she might enjoy? It had the intended effect, as Pik gawked. “ZOK!"

“Th-th-that's fukwa! Did. . . they. . . wha. . . would they have a Manbleeder Seed!?"

Aloise smirked. “Zhey might."

Edwin shook his head. “Oh, don't give'er ideas now!"

“ZOK!" injereced Pik. “Eddy! If we had a Manbleeder I could. . . I could do things!"

“You already do things."

“BETTER THINGS!"

“Yes, well," continued Aloise, turning to Edwin. “Zhey might be loud, classless, brutish zhings, but, zhere are marksman selling wares here, Eddy. We could. . . erm, you could find zhomething?"

Huh. In a different time, a different place, maybe a year ago when he first met the rabbit, Edwin would be keen to take him up on the offer. But this, odd, strange, bizarre idea took hold. He wasn't interested in all that, exactly. He wanted to see his friends smile. He wanted them to be happy.

“We'll be on the ship o'while," shrugged Edwin. “This play of yours sounds. . . different."

Aloise blinked. “You. . . want. . . to go?"

“With you, yes."

Pik stopped her zorking out and halted, looking between the two. She dawned a wild, manic grin, pointed ears wiggling. “Ohoho. Hoho. Eeehahghgr. Well, count me out."

She waved her hand. “Iiiiii've got better things to do than hear a fat guy wail about, I dunno, um, having no nuts?"

Aloise scoffed. “Zhat isn't what they do."

“Pbbbt, I've heard banshee wailin' more appealing than all that."

She nudged Aloise under the table with her foot. “Looks like it'll just be you two doofs."

Aloise scowled at her, while she looked back with a wiggle of the brow. Slowly, he realized what she was doing.

“A classy settin' might do you good, Pik," said Edwin, forking into his food. Aloise coughed.

Aloise almost squeaked.

“No, no, she has made her decision. Right Pik, right?"

The Yoklin waved her hand. “Yehyehyeh, I gots gatherin' to do."

She gave Aloise a wink before popping another egg into her mouth, munching loudly. Edwin shook his head, oblivious.

What he wasn't oblivious to, however, was the clear delight and enthuse in Aloise's voice. Stuffy theater with stuffier crowds wasn't Edwin's scene, at all, and he certainly loathed such excessive displays of impractical wealthy. But the bun liked it. It made the bun happy. He. . . wanted that for Al. Now, why he did certainly eluded him.

To get into Aloise's pants? Hardly. Wasn't like he needed much help with that. His companions were. . . feisty, so to speak. It was more, well, the idea of the effete rabbit smiling. Sure, said rabbit sported frightening razor-like teeth and fangs, but still, it was a smile. Again, his mind wandered back to the knoll in the marsh, the blossoming pink rose crowning its hill. Hmm.

He just hoped the black bogwater in his soul didn't consume it.

-*-

The evening was almost upon the Glorium Maxa, though it was hard to tell given its position in the sky. Rather, ornate clocks centered in the luxurious hotel-esque rooms clicked and whirred to indicate the time, long gold hands indicating it was near stroke of six. The theater events were only an hour away!

Ah, Aloise, he dawned his posh, effete appearance, the enthuse and jubilation clear through each little movement he made. From twitch of tall ears to tail wiggle, to how his hips sometimes swayed, to the doting of his eyeshadow and eyeliner, he was beside himself. Edwin? Ah, less so.

“Zhis accents your handsome frame very well," said Aloise, tossing the swamper a set of clothes. “It reveals zhe shape of you, but leaves some to zhe imagination. Zhat is Calipa tailored, too, so you'll find it breathes."

Edwin eyed the pile of clothes in his arms, frowning. “Hmm. How many guns can I hide in it?"

Aloise pouted. “Eddy."

“Man waltzin' about without a weapon is like a fella' without his prick!" protested Edwin. “Don't think you'd like that."

Aloise crossed his arms. Now, sure as the bun could wear a dress and hold the sway and manner of a classy lady, he was in something preferred: a tight suit of deep blue-black, fit with short tailcoat, silver crest buttons, sheepskin gloves, and a dash of perfume. His strawberry pink hair was swept with an expert coif and his alluring eyes spotted with makeup to give him an exotic appeal.

“You shouldn't be worried about a fight."

Edwin raised a brow. “I'm always worried."

Aloise rolled his eyes. Then, he opened his vest coat. Within, no less than three beautiful but terrifying knives resided, their sharp points matched with elegant ivory handles.

“No one is touching my Eddy," he declared. “Now. Shoo! Get zhat on!"

“Fine, fine," conceded Edwin, turning round to dress. He'd make due.

Wasn't easy getting fitted. The attire was so odd and bizarre. The boiled blackleather stripped from marsh-boar made for a fine, protective coat. This stuff? Well, it was comfy, like a kiss on the skin, and the color accented his moon-cursed features, sure. The dark colors contrasted with his silvery-white hair and pale, ghostly eyes, but egads man, not much room. The only thing spacious was “downstairs," and he had to wager that was a little subtle mischief on the rabbit's part.

As he got himself dressed, he glanced at himself in room mirror. He looked. . . good. Felt good. Then he spied his dresser. On it, a totem.

The totem of Dagados, of the Marsh Guard, of his cove. Made of bone, spun into a cross and wrapped with leather. It wasn't around his neck, and it was always around his neck. His reminder, his weight to bear, to constantly remind him, like a shackle. Then he looked at himself. All ritzy and posh like he was a stuffy royal.

“Don't look at me like that," he muttered at the totem. “Please."

The totem said nothing. The totem did nothing. And yet, Edwin flinched. “Just. . . let me have this for a while!"

Closing his eyes, he ran to his dresser, pulled out a canteen, and knocked back a few thumbs of hard drink. Much harder than a Drowner. The burning liquid settled him, consumed the memories, and allowed him to focus.

He looked down at himself, setting the drink aside. “Why am I doing this again?" he muttered.

Once dressed, he returned to Aloise, who put a few final touches on his lovely ensemble. Oh. That's why.

Aloise perked, turned, and saw Edwin, entirely different. Normally, Edwin wore his long-coat and kept visage hidden with hat and scarf, both to protect his moon-cursed skin from the sun and also to maintain an aura of intimidation. But here, his youthful, lean features were on display, and Aloise flushed.

“Edwin," he said, smiling. He strode to his companion and put hands to Edwin's chest.

“Eh?"

“. . .look at you. Handsome."

Edwin scoffed. “Ah, c'mon Al. You're just sayin' so."

He was an Incubi. He had to, right? A daemon was arm candy, to make you feel good.

Aloise's features furrowed, eyes narrowing. “Edwin Greene. Listen to me. You. Are."

Edwin stared into those strange, alluring pink eyes. Why did that sound so genuine? “I. . . erm. Thanks."

He cleared his throat. Well. Don't be a daft fool! Say something nice!

“You too," said Ed. “Um. You're also pretty. Very pretty." Was that the right word? Aloise merged the qualities well, so which was the right word? Didn't matter, the effete rabbit took the compliment well.

“How sweet."

Here, Aloise wiggled his finger, dusty fuchsia energy crackling from his finger. A cane levitated to him, polished blackwood with a golden rabbit skull crowning its length. He hooked his arm around Edwin's own like a bird to a branch. Warmth filled the swamper, a confusing feeling.

“Shall we?" said Aloise with a gesture to the door.

Edwin thought of the blossoming rose.

“Okay."

-*-

The Maxa traversed the coastal skies like a grandiose spear, humming through the clouds as its Arcanacore engine wove multi-colored trails of brilliant hues throughout the horizon. Such a beast was the only of its kind, a grotesquely beautiful creature of opulence and military power, the only of its breed. Indeed, one might stay aboard its corridors for months and only explore fractions of his size. They might also wonder why so many resources and time were focused into it, instead of say, infrastructure for the servitor populace.

They might, but no one ever did.

Because of its leviathan size, it was capable of housing thousands of guests and personnel. It also curated dozens of avenues for entertainment, such as an entire interior gala dedicated to theatrical arts. Naturally, this was the plaza capturing Aloise's fancy.

The effete bun lead his companion down a series of halls and stair-flights until they reached a wide foyer. Through it, a set of ornate, scarlet double doors granting entrance to a ballroom, sized for the airship. Beyond said room was another set of doors: that was the atrium where theater events were hosted.

All along the way, Aloise chattered about the evening's show: Atheus.

“I saw a rendition of it at zhe University Oxus!" he'd say. “Oh, it was quaint, and zhe student zheater did zheir best, but it was nothing compared to zhe showing at the Hall Sola."

Edwin was. . . vaguely familiar with some of those names. He glanced to his partner, who walked with such a light step, heel-toe boots clicking in eager stride. Even his hips swung with a little extra sashay. Happy, then. He was happy.

“I see. . ." Edwin said intermittently as Aloise went on.

“. . .Yurov, really, he's the only one who can do Atheus justice, zhey were both native to Zlava. . ."

Down more halls.

“. . .it's a soldier's tale, a one of longing, I zhink you'll like it. . ."

Then to the gala.

Finally, at the doors.

“Al," said Edwin, stopping the bun.

“Nmm?"

“We're here."

Aloise stopped, blinked, and glanced about. “O-oh. So we are. Aha, ahem. I was ah, rambling."

Edwin chuckled. Yes, perhaps a little but. . . he didn't mind. Aloise soft, accented voice had a lulling grace to it. There was clear excitement in his tone, and educated knowledge too. He didn't know up from left when Aloise talked about all these theater names and their respective players, but, if the rabbit liked it, Edwin would try to like it too.

As for “here," they were at the ballroom. Aloise purchased their tickets and the showing was set to happen in a half hour. The company, like before, was odd and varied. Nothing Edwin wanted to get mixed in with, though. More poshy, stuffy snob types, looked like. Except. . .

“Friend!"

Edwin turned. Approaching, wearing a robe of his homeland was Zetsu. Oh, good. Instinctively, Edwin positioned himself in front of Aloise, because he couldn't quite gauge the sanity of the stranger.

Zetsu strode up with a rooster's swagger, bearing a grin. “Hadn't a clue you were a fan of the arts!"

“Zetsu," said Edwin, nodding politely.

Curious, Aloise peaked, quite intrigued to see who was siphoning his Eddy's attention. When the foreigner spied said Aloise, he gasped.

“Oh!" Zetsu cawed. At once, a humble, exaggerated bow. “I see, I see! Fortune, luck, romance! They favor me tonight!"

Edwin crossed his arms, smirking. “You been swimming in the Drowners again?"

“Aha!" Zetsu laughed. “No. Tonight, my friend, my path continues. I cam carried by the warrior's wind, and my quest calls me."

He looked at Edwin, granting a knowing look. The swamper didn't like that, not one bit. That meant he was out for blood, daemon blood, despite his cocky exterior.

Aloise was tired of being ignored. “Edwin. Who is zhis?"

Zetsu switched to the effete rabbit. "Oh, my beautiful rose, my fuchsia vision! I dreamt of you, if you'll forgive this miserable soul! Oh, once I knew your name, oh once I saw your face, I couldn't escape it! I was. . ."

He cleared his throat, closing eyes, smiling. “I learned something about myself. Edwin, you cad, you scandalous boar. You're a man of culture."

Aloise blinked. “What."

Edwin studied the man, watched him hard. His ghostly eyes didn't leave the stranger, observing his every move, every shift in expression and movement. He liked Zetsu. But he didn't trust him.

Zetsu put a hand to his chest. “Forgive this rooster, Aloise. You pluck at my feathers! I've never seen such a prince. . . such a peach!"

Aloise looked between Edwin and Zetsu. “. . .I see."

“Zetsu, was it?" continued the bun, holding out his manicured hand. Zetsu groaned, as if in ecstasy.

“Oh, my name on your lips, it is like an angel's sonnet!"

Aloise simpered and chuckled. “I'm no angel. . . and certainly no peach."

Zetsu took his hand, kissed it, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, but I could eat a peach all day."

Edwin turned away to snort, where Aloise cooed. “Oooh, Eddy, now why don't you talk to me like zhat?"

Zetsu gasped. “Yeah, Ed! Why not?" He grinned.

“Rest assured, my supple little sin," he continued to Aloise, “I'll say things to you that would have me lashed by a holy man!"

Edwin shook his head. Hmm. Did Zetsu even know? Did he know who he was talking to? Or was he so bewilderingly cock-strut horny he couldn't see straight?

“What are you doing here, Zetsu?" asked Edwin, blunt as a blunderbuss.

Zetsu blinked and glanced at the swamper. “Searching for good company!"

His eyes said it all. He was hunting.

“And how's that turnin' out?"

For the briefest of moments, Zetsu's smile vanished. “Keep your eyes open. You'll find them too."

A pause. Then, Zetsu switched again. “Well, anyway. . . Aloise. If ever the queen needs his throne. . ."

He leaned a little, making a clear show of his face. Aloise chittered with flirtatious laughter. “You're a dog."

“Dogs have long tongues."

At once, Aloise shoved his backside into Edwin. “Oh, alas, sieur, zhis one has my leash. But. . . don't be a stranger. . . maybe I'll get free one day." He winked.

“Hah!" barked Zetsu. “Edwin! You! I hate you, but I love you! Ah, this is destiny. One day, perhaps, as legends say, our swords shall meet and fight for the prince's hand!"

“I prefer an axe and a gun," said Edwin, flat.

“Hmm, yes, there is elegance in brute force."

“Lotta' dead people too," Edwin grumbled.

Once again, Zetsu bowed. “Until we meet again, my sweet, delicious peach."

With an exaggerated turn and flair of the arm, Zetsu strode into the ballroom, amongst the crowd. Aloise smiled, gave a dainty finger wiggle, then turned to Edwin.

He frowned. “Quite zhe company you keep."

Edwin stared back, raising a brow. “I could eat a peach all day?"

Aloise rolled his eyes and leaned on his cane. “Zhe man wants me. So?"

“So, you like leading him on?"

Aloise gave a small, devious smile. “Are you jealous?"

Edwin, for the briefest of moments, returned to his habits of self-preservation. “You know what he's doing?"

“Don't ignore me."

Edwin crossed his arms. “He thinks there are daemons on this ship, Al."

Aloise hesitated, looking away. “Well. Zhen. He isn't very smart, is he?"

Edwin didn't answer at once. Aloise was a little put off, and not in the usual way. “. . .Aloise. Are there?"

Aloise gave a little 'hmph,' an indignant tail wiggle, and turned up his nose. “You didn't answer me."

The swamper sighed internally. Be damned this frustrating, posh pretty boy. This. . . sweet, beautiful, warm person.

Then, fool he was, Edwin realized what Aloise wanted to hear. “. . .um. Yes."

Aloise's ear perked and he glanced to Edwin. “Yes, er, uh. Very. I can't bare the idea of another man, uh, making eyes at you."

Was that the way to put it? “Making eyes?" Aloise chuckled.

“You are terrible at zhis. But. . ."

He leaned, kissing Edwin on the cheek. “Handsome. Remember what I said? No one is hurting my Edwin."

Edwin didn't like the implication despite the assurance. “So, there are."

The bun frowned. “Eddy. Please. No worrying. We're free, remember? Can't we enjoy our night togezher?"

“Of course we can."

Aloise blinked. “. . .do you mean zhat?"

Edwin took a long look at his companion. He preferred Aloise happy and smiling and worry-free. However, Aloise was still part Incubi, in tune with other “unsavory" entities. If Aloise knew, then Zetsu wasn't insane, and that implied a lot of unpleasant business about this vessel.

Still. . .

“I do."

Aloise fiddled with the buttons on Edwin's suit. “Zhen promise me. Promise me. You won't do anyzhing rash? You'll stay with me? With Pik?"

By that he meant don't get in any rows with a beast, or worse.

Edwin nodded. “I promise."

And he meant it. Odd thing about having money and no-worries. It was. . . great. Aloise studied the swamper for a good while, sniffing for deception. He gazed straight into Edwin's ghostly-silver eyes, squinting.

Aloise huffed, relieved. “Good."

Edwin was too. He didn't want the whole night ruined because of his usual grumbling. Dammit, he was starting to enjoy this!

. . .maybe. . . maybe he wanted to keep enjoying it more.

“Um. Al."

Aloise adjusted his tight suit-coat, tapping the ground with cane.

“Could we uh, get some seats that are. . . private?"

Gah, he felt the fool. He was like a boy again, asking for the heart of a young maiden. But then again, when did he last really have some time with anyone, like this? Aloise was so enigmatic and alluring, hard to believe he wanted to spend time with Eddy at all.

The rabbit stared. “. . .private?"

Edwin cleared his throat. “Ah. Yeah."

The bun grinned. “Ohoho. Welllll. . . I'll need to get zhome new tickets."

Now he leaned, sultry, soft voice whispering directly into Edwin's ear. “But we'll have some very private seats, just us two. . . nice and secluded."

The deep, thick tendrils of the marsh receded from Edwin's soul. Hah. He could forget about it all for a while longer. At least for tonight.

“I think I'd like that," Edwin said, almost smiling. Ah, here was something else: his cheeks felt warm. What?

He put a hand to his face, concerned. Why was that happening? Blood rushed into them, tingly-like. His heart skipped a little faster too. Was he sick?

Wait, no, no. He was blushing. Huh.

“Edwin?"

Apparently he'd granted the ornate walls a thousand-yard stare. “Mmh, oh, sorry."

“Oh, don't be," cooed the bun. “As long as you were zhinking of me."

“Hmm. Maybe."

Aloise took him by the hand, tugged him along, and gave a notably exaggerating swing to his hips as they ventured to their seats.

Once they did, they were indeed in a private section of the small theater, away from the pre-show congregation. It was, admittedly, impressive how the Maxa managed to host so many interiors of this size. The atrium wasn't enormous by its land-based counterpart standards, of course, but certainly large enough to hold a venue of at least 100 heads.

For the private seats, though, those overlooked the theater, high in the rafters, overlooking the stage. There was a luxurious curtain to hide company within and several cushioned seats. It was, for the moment, quiet, aside from the beastly hum of the Maxa and the occasional audible gust. Edwin found it peaceful as he took a seat.

“Poor Eddy," cooed Aloise as he sat next to his companion. “Wanted me all to yourself?"

Edwin allowed his stiff exterior to fade. “That's not a problem, is it?"

“On zhe contrary. . ."

He pat Edwin's hand. “I like when you smile."

Edwin managed to chuckle, unbelievably. “I always smile!"

Aloise rolled his eyes. “Mmhm. . ."

Said hand trailed to Edwin's knee. “. . .I'll keep you happy."

Edwin shifted, clearing his throat. “You don't. . . have to that."

Aloise leaned. “You might not realize, Edwin, but I like doing it."

Edwin stared at the effete bun. Why? Why was the first thing coming to his mind. Why? Why Edwin, the ex-Marsh Guard, the coward, the deserter? He drank until he didn't have to feel. He didn't like crowds. He was too kept to himself.

Well, he's an Incubi, he doesn't really care, said a small voice. That's his job.

Edwin struggled. But he could leave any time.

He's just using you, of course.

Then why not take his cut and run? Or go with Zetsu? Sol knows there's plenty of puffy high-lifers perfect for him right on this damned ship.

You're just a plaything to him!

Then why does he risk his life for me, or put himself in danger on my behalf? Or Pik's!?

Edwin realized he was staring absent-mindedly again.

“Maybe I just like it when I can talk to you, Al."

Aloise went silent.

Edwin fought for the words. Gah, he was not great at pillow – er – chair talk. He had handsome features of a young man but wasn't as sharp as his shots, turns out. He stared at one of the boards on the stage, like it might give him an answer.

“You're. . . nice? And I like. . . being around you?"

Yes that was it. Except for the nice part. Aloise was nice, when he wasn't threatening to skin a man for getting his coffee wrong.

He looked at the bun now, who gave him an endearing smile. “Oh. . ."

Then a sneer. “Edwin. Handsome. I can do both."

“But. . ."

“I want to."

He rubbed Edwin's hand in comforting fashion. “. . .do you want me to?"

All the voices in the deep, bog-ridden pit of Edwin's mind screamed at him. No. He wasn't allowed. Happiness was not for him. That a lifetime of suffering was all that remained, so that he might atone for what he'd done.

But. . . he. . . wanted to feel good again. And happy.

He needed to forget tonight. Just for a while, dammit!

“Yes," he rasped.

And that was that.

Aloise pulled him free of his trousers, yanked out his thick erection and proceeded to wrap his soft lips about it. He spent the entirety of the pre-show tossing his head on the length, slobbering upon it, sloppy rivers of sex, seed, and saliva dribbling into the floor, mumbling and moaning in gleeful fashion.

When the show began, Aloise stripped down and proceed to bounce on Edwin's lap until the swamper was sore. They didn't even see most of the show. All Edwin could process was the rabbit's sweet, hot lips on his own, the aggressive toss of his plump haunches as his own hands squeezed and groped possessively, the squeaks and moans from his companion.

Was it the Incubi. . . or was it Aloise?

When he released inside Aloise for the fourth or fifth time (he lost count), the show was at intermission. Aloise – his fine suit attire precisely folded in his empty stead – lay on Edwin, collapsed.

“Nff. . . god. . . Edwin. . . my poor Eddy. . ."

Edwin felt his hand stride over the subtle sinew of the bun's back. “Eh?"

“You needed zhat, didn't you?

Edwin managed a sheepish chuckle. “Guess, er, it has been a while."

Aloise wiggled. “Mmmm, by zhe feel of it. . ."

Heat consumed Edwin's chest, all but obliterating the cold, marshy remains. For now.

“Al?"

“Mmmhm?"

“. . .one more?"

Aloise threw his head back with laughs. “Nnfm, I like zhis Edwin."

Much like a dog, Edwin proceeded to push his lover to all fours and rut him senseless. He didn't have to think or worry. Right now, it was just them.

. . .lover?

Huh.