Chapter One
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Disclaimer - I do not own these characters.
Categories - YAOI, lemon, Angst. If you don't know what a yaoi lemon is, do not read this. If you do not like yaoi lemons, do not read this. The capitalization of "angst" states Tabitha is a sadistic bitch. But ickle Sei-Lan will be treated better in future chapters.
Pairings - Oscar/Sei-Lan and a little Clavis/Lumiale.
Warnings - Refer to Categories. Also, die-hard Oscar fans may take offense. I don't hate him, really?
Thanks - Marfisa, for beta reading, encouragement and ideas to be seen in later chapters, and Anime Kitty for beta reading and willingness to read BL smut.



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It was half past midnight, and Sei-Lan couldn't sleep again. Insomnia was no stranger to the Tutor, who had never been accustomed to having a daily schedule. Quite often as it was, artistic inspiration would hit him during the dark, wee hours of the morning. This unfortunately made the daily task of instructing two bubbly young Queen Candidates more difficult than it would have been, had he slept well the night before. The girls surely thought him cold, and he certainly had acted cranky towards them both on many occasions. But it was nothing personal. He just wasn't much of a morning person.

But tonight was different. Sei-Lan didn't have to teach tomorrow, so there was really no need to worry about sleep. And considering the dreams he'd been having lately, he wasn't sure if sleep was what he really needed.

The first dream had taken place about two weeks before. The artist had awakened fevered, his heart beating rapidly, and his lungs gasping for breath. His first thought had been, "Why him?" as he splashed cold water on his face and neck. Surely the dream had just been an odd reaction to watching his friend flirt with (and be rejected by) the twelfth woman that day...

Only the dreams continued. Nearly every night after the first, Sei-Lan was confronted by some other, similar dream in which instead of a woman, it was he, the Instructor of Sense, who was the object of his friend's pursuit. Sometimes the dreams were sweet, tender and romantic, but other times they were hot and passionate enough to make him -

"Enough," he whispered to himself, trying not to think of the Guardian of Flame. How like a foolish moth the artist was behaving by allowing such a crush to blur his Sense. Sei-Lan snorted to himself and got up. Dressing quickly, preparing to leave, he decided some routines were not so tedious after all. On many sleepless nights prior to the dreams, he'd taken long strolls near the Guardians' homes. He found Clavis' forest very relaxing to wander through when restless. And sometimes, if one were lucky, Lumiale would be visiting the Guardian of Dark, playing his soothing notes into the night. Sei-Lan had often been amazed how a musical instrument could be played in pure accompaniment to the insects and animals of the night, rather than drowning out these sounds of nature.

As it turned out, tonight was one of those nights when the Water Guardian played to the small creatures of the forest (and most especially to Clavis). Sei-Lan approached slowly, not wanting his footsteps to add noise. The harp's notes were so delicate, it seemed as if even a slight breeze could carry them away from his ears.

The song ended, and he heard a deep voice speak softly. Sei-Lan was compelled to move closer, slowly and quietly, to the balcony on which Lumiale had set his harp. What the artist witnessed should not have surprised him, as many had already remarked upon the closeness the two Guardians shared. Despite this, he held his breath, startled and unable to look away, as he watched Clavis kiss Lumiale deeply and passionately.

As he watched, another rare occurrence began - one that he'd only witnessed once before on this planet - a light rain began to fall. Ordinarily, weather patterns here were stable and unchanging. Rain was rare, but even more so when seemingly called upon by the sound of a night's harp song. Sei-Lan smiled, happily enjoying the feel of the light water spray from above as the kiss ended in tenderness. A scene such as this made the Tutor believe that love was not only real, but even attainable.

He was not the only person watching the kiss tonight. The other voyeur was griping to himself as the rain began to fall more steadily. Why hadn't he brought a cloak? It wasn't as if hanging round the Guardian of Water didn't put one at risk of getting wet. Yet he had always been perversely entertained by watching Lumiale and his love, and still rather envied the Guardian of Dark. The man grumbled to himself, preparing to leave quickly, when by the patchy moonlight he saw a familiar form in the distance. With eyes closed, smiling up at the sudden shower, Sei-Lan seemed both completely oblivious to the world, and completely absorbed in it. He looked, well... alluring. Beautiful. Intoxicating. Disturbingly so. Looking at him standing there with arms outstretched was giving Oscar thoughts other than fleeing the rain.

And the rain began to fall heavier, so that it was no longer a gentle shower, but a steady downpour. The lovers on the balcony retreated inside Clavis' home, bringing the harp almost as an afterthought. Sei-Lan caught the end of this retreat, and decided sadly that perhaps it was time for him to go back to his bed. He turned slowly and began to walk back, enjoying the rain, despite it being rather cold. Suddenly the water hitting his head was stopped, though it was still pouring elsewhere. With a start, the artist turned around, looking for the source of this change.

There, standing with his cape held over Sei-Lan's head, was Oscar. The Guardian didn't appear to be very comfortable with the current weather, but he had an unusually enthusiastic gleam in his pale blue eyes. "Aren't you worried about catching cold?" he asked his friend with a smirk.

The artist floundered, for once at a loss for words. "I..." he began nervously. "I couldn't sleep," was his weak reply as he blushed, looking anywhere but at Oscar's eyes. Why did his gaze spear through him so sharply tonight?

Oscar chuckled, casually wrapping an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "So we both had trouble sleeping, and sought out the same remedy," He winked at the other before continuing, as he led Sei-Lan back in the opposite direction. "But this rain is a bit much, don't you think? It would be easier to enjoy it if one were inside, warm and dry, rather than out in it, catching ill and shivering." Sei-Lan felt a real shiver rack his body at these words, but not just from the cold of the downpour. Why was Oscar's seemingly usual behavior weakening him so tonight? Why was being so close to him at this moment making words so hard to find? And more importantly, where was he being led?

As if hearing the younger man's internal question, Oscar said, "I don't know about you, but I'm not at all ready to sleep, since the night's performance has been cut short," A sharp gust of wind drove rain into his face as he spoke. "Damn, that's cold! Look, we should get indoors. As I was about to say, since my home is closer to here than yours, why not visit and have a drink with me until the rain stops? My horse is waiting only over there." He pointed towards a tree about ten feet away where a horse snorted, anxious to be back in his warm stable. Oscar smiled at the horse, and then looked back at Sei-Lan, waiting for a response.

The young Tutor was momentarily stumped. Oscar, inviting him over for a drink at this hour? Surely it would be easier for him to just let him leave, or at the very least give him a ride to his own home. Why would the Guardian want his company on a night like this? When the man could be enjoying such a night with any one or more of his doting female servants? Sei-Lan was feeling more insecure with every increasing heartbeat. He certainly wasn't going to allow himself to hope for anything more to happen than a friendly drink. Surely that would be all.

Oscar watched the artist's troubled expression with visible amusement. He's got it bad, he mused. Was it Lumiale? Or perhaps even Clavis? Both seemed to get on with the young man quite well. Oscar sighed inaudibly. Well, he generally got on quite well with the Instructor too. Maybe after having a drink, the artist might feel inclined to tell him who he had a crush on. The Guardian of Flame grinned in the dark as the cold rain poured.

Sei-Lan sneezed, feeling a chill finally set in on his thin frame. Instinctively, his body leaned slightly closer to the warmth standing beside him. Oscar chuckled again, patting his friend on the shoulder. 'You need that drink right away from the sound of it! Let's get you to my place, where you can dry off and warm up by the fire." The other nodded, relieved at not being required to speak. Oscar led him to the horse, patted its head lovingly, and helped him onto its back with ease. In a short moment the Guardian was seated behind him. The horse needed no encouragement, as it made its way towards Oscar's home.

~*~*~*~

He sat comfortably on one end of the sofa in Oscar's living room, waiting for the Guardian to return from the kitchen. The servants were all asleep, and not wanting to wake them, Oscar had offered to fetch some tea. Before making said offer indoors, Sei-Lan has been directed to a dressing room to change from his soaked clothing to a warm, fuzzy robe. The artist had gratefully done so, taking only seconds to marvel at how the elaborate, spotless and seemingly unused dressing room looked strangely cold compared to the warm decor he'd expected from the Guardian of Flame. Waiting here seated, facing a large, burning fire in the fireplace, the Tutor wondered how the time had gone by so quickly since he left his own house. He'd barely said four words to Oscar since he'd been discovered in Clavis' yard earlier. His eyes narrowed with worry, knowing his silence would soon be questioned. In his current position, not answering at least somewhat truthfully would be nearly impossible. Oscar was nothing if not persuasive, and in past conversations the two had done plenty of bantering on the subjects of love and desire. And considering Sei-Lan's recent dreams... He cursed softly, wishing his head would clear so he could compose a believable story to keep his feelings from being discovered. However his thoughts were strangely sluggish, leaving the moth feeling more like a rabbit that is about to be cornered by a wolf.

"Tea's not something I make often, but it's warm, and should be palatable," Oscar entered the room. He was dressed in a similarly warm-looking robe, and carried a small tray on which a teakettle and two cups were placed. He set the tray down on the table in front of the sofa, and then moved to the facing fireplace mantle where he grabbed a small decanter and two tumblers. Placing these next to the tray on the table, Oscar took a seat next to Sei-Lan and poured himself a drink from the decanter. As he looked over at his guest, the Tutor sneezed again. The younger man felt strangely chilled, despite the warmth coming from the fireplace.

"It appears this was a good idea after all," Oscar smiled, setting his drink on the table and pouring a cup of tea for his guest. "How about a little of this to flavor it?" he continued with a wink, gesturing to the decanter. "It'll warm you up faster, and should make the tea taste better." Without waiting for Sei-Lan's weak nod of approval, Oscar poured what appeared to be a generous amount of liquor into the steaming cup of tea. He handed the cup to the artist, who looked suddenly very nervous.

"T-thanks," Sei-Lan muttered as he stared into the cup. Oscar watched him with growing curiosity. What could be the matter? Was he really ill? He'd been so silent tonight, and Oscar was certain the reason for that was somehow connected to the kiss they'd witnessed earlier. 'Though he generally wasn't the nosy type, he knew Sei-Lan well enough (compared to how well anyone else on this planet knew the artist anyway) that he felt tempted by the challenge of figuring something out about his mysterious friend. The Guardian cleared his throat lightly, took a sip of his bourbon, and ventured an interrogation.

"Sei-Lan," he began, watching the addressed jump slightly and blush. Was that really a blush he just saw? "You're strangely quiet tonight, and you seem even more distant than usual," the Guardian continued, eyes narrowing.

The Tutor tensed. Here it is then. Wonderful. Now what?

Oscar both saw and felt the tension coming from the other man as he pressed on. "Is there something troubling you? Anything I could be of assistance of, or at the very least offer an ear to?" He waited, watching the artist's troubled face as the mind behind it tried to work out a response.

Why wasn't his brain working? He hadn't even tasted whatever concoction was in his teacup, but already felt as if his Sense was completely muddled. He must have a fever. There was no other way to explain his unusual absence of a quick response. Even feeling as he did for the red-haired man, he'd always been able to retort with some quick and sometimes scathing comeback to anything Oscar threw at him. Yet now, sitting here wearing nothing but one of the Guardian's bathrobes, and next to the similarly clad subject of his passion-filled dreams, the Tutor's creative mind seemed to be engulfed in a fever matching the one raging through his body. Quickly and unthinkingly, he snapped back in what he hoped to be a characteristic manner.

"I thought Olivie-sama was the one interested in gossip," he said snidely. Damn it. That was not what he'd wanted to say at all! Trying to cover his awkwardness, he took what he thought to be a sip from his cup, only to choke on what turned out to be a large gulp of strong, burning hot spiked tea. Sei-Lan had a fit of coughing, and clumsily set his cup down on the table. How could anyone drink that sort of thing?

He felt a strong hand slap his back lightly, and heard a laugh in the warm voice next to him. "Take it easy, Sei-Lan! That tea's still pretty hot," the Guardian was amused. How could he have missed it? It was now so plainly obvious that his friend had become attracted to him. How had he thought it was Clavis or Lumiale? And now that he'd surely found out the truth, how could he get the pretty thing to admit to his attraction?

Oscar stared at Sei-Lan for several moments, taking in the still-damp indigo locks of silky hair, the fair, smooth, porcelain skin, the eyes which looked almost like the bright sea water off the beaches of some exotic islands he'd visited... Truly the artist was a captivating beauty, and a work of art in his own physical existence. Oscar had always been a sucker for a pretty face. And 'though his pursuits usually centered on female pretty faces, he wasn't above trying his luck with an occasional beauty of a different gender. Over time he'd come to accept defeat in his pursuit of Lumiale, realizing that not only was he unavailable, but that their Sacrea being elemental opposites would likely present a problem not worth dealing with in a short-term relationship.

But he and Sei-Lan got along so well already. This seemed to be the perfect moment for him to make his move. Trying the usual method of conversation clearly wasn't going to get the Tutor to open up at a time like this. There was only one way to find out if his suspicion was correct. Taking full advantage of his position, Oscar leaned toward his still gasping friend and placed a kiss on his trembling lips, pulling back slowly.

Sei-Lan felt as if his heart had stopped beating. What was that? It had happened so fast, his fevered brain had barely registered it. But it had happened. The slight taste of bourbon on his lips proved it had. Oscar - the man he felt so strongly for lately - had just kissed him. Sei-Lan gaped, staring at the Guardian with confusion and desire. "W-why...?" he stammered, trying to collect his thoughts.

Oscar smiled wolfishly, chuckling at the adorable expression on the usually sharp young man's face. "I thought it might stop your coughing fit." He smirked, watching his friend's face as the line he'd always wanted to use was absorbed.

He's insane. Sei-Lan was sure of it. His Sense fought his body's reaction to the kiss, telling the Tutor that excuse was utterly ridiculous. But he was no longer coughing. Damn! Why couldn't he think?

Oscar watched still, wondering what his chances were of going a bit further. The other man hadn't shown any signs of offense at having been kissed once, and hadn't even scoffed at his "explanation" for said kiss. That was odd indeed. He'd been half expecting a sarcastic comment, or even a glare. Oscar smiled. This proved his guess had been correct. Now the question was just how much did Sei-Lan want him? The Guardian figured he had nothing to lose and much to gain by adding more fuel to the fire, so he leaned in for another, longer kiss.

Feeling Oscar's lips press against his for the second time in only moments, Sei-Lan nearly swooned. His Sense was clearly no match for this. He closed his eyes, feeling his blood pound throughout his entire body as the kiss deepened. He moaned softly as Oscar's tongue worked its way into his mouth, twisting and sliding against his own, and tasting sweet. This was better than he'd imagined.

Oscar slowly and somewhat reluctantly ended the kiss, pulling back slightly and looking at the flushed face of the artist. With his eyes still closed and his lips still parted, he looked even more tempting than he had earlier. The robe Sei-Lan was wearing was slightly open, exposing a small amount of his chest and collarbone. Eyeing the younger man's neck, Oscar decided wordlessly to keep going until he was stopped. There was no point in talk if the Tutor was speechless.

Sei-Lan gasped, eyes opening in surprise as he felt Oscar's mouth descend on his neck just below one ear. He was afraid to believe this was even happening. Try as he might, he could not stop pleasure-induced moans from escaping his lips as Oscar's mouth nibbled and sucked its way along his neck. He then felt his body being slowly pressed down and to one side, so that he was lying on his back against the sofa cushions. Even as that mouth moved further down, tongue licking at his collarbone, Sei-Lan's mind was not completely gone. Why was Oscar doing this? He'd been so sure the Guardian was only interested in women, so why? Could it be possible that he... No, he couldn't. He wouldn't! Oscar flaunted his sexual prowess often, but he would never love another man. Surely he - "Ah!"

The red-head continued feasting on the sweet flesh of his friend down to a small, pink nipple, which he teased mercilessly with his teeth and tongue. Oscar was thoroughly enjoying the sounds his attentions were pulling out of the artist's mouth. He'd have to hurry this up if he wanted to last long enough to hear those little moans and whimpers turn into ecstatic screams.

He wasn't sure when Oscar had untied the belt that held his robe closed. But he was sure that his friend's mouth was going to drive him completely insane if it continued this assault on his skin. Of all his past lovers, none of their attentions held even a candle to what he was feeling at that moment.

Oscar was growing impatiently hard listening to that voice. He moved his hungry mouth further down, licking Sei-Lan's navel momentarily before reaching the erection below. With a smirk and a glance at his friend's lovely face, Oscar applied his teasing licks and nibbles to that sensitive flesh.

Sei-Lan cried out helplessly and in half-shock as he felt the Guardian's lips and tongue attack his shaft. His entire body trembled and burned with a need he had never felt to this extent before. And never had he consciously imagined Oscar doing this, always believing the man couldn't be interested in him. But as he felt that mouth swallow him, all reflections disappeared. He cried out soundlessly as his friend's mouth sucked at him, tongue stroking the heated flesh as if it were candy in the mouth of one desperate for sugar. The artist was so physically in need of an end, but emotionally he wanted this to last forever.

Within seconds, Sei-Lan was brought to the edge of orgasm. At that moment Oscar pulled back and stared at his friend, removing his own robe and smiling down at him triumphantly. Through fever-clouded eyes, Sei-Lan threw a dazed and questioning gaze at his lover, whimpering involuntarily. Why had he stopped? Sei-Lan had been so close... It seemed cruel somehow. But before he could find words to question the Guardian, he saw the man wet two fingers in his mouth. With no time to register surprise at this action, the younger man felt those fingers press into him, stretching and preparing him, presumably for something else. He gasped as those fingers brushed against the most sensitive place inside him, and felt as if his blood had been filled with billions of tiny explosives. He closed his eyes, partially from weariness caused by his fever, and partially from simultaneous anticipation and disbelief of what was about to happen.

The Guardian watched his friend's face closely for any sign of a line being crossed. Seeing nothing there but fevered bliss, he removed his fingers and positioned Sei-Lan's legs upwards and apart, so as to allow better access. Oscar readied himself, still watching the other man's face as he slowly pressed into his tight warmth.

Instead of the usual slight pain of initial penetration, Sei-Lan felt an intense and almost devine heat move into him. He wanted more, but couldn't seem to make his limbs obey his need to move closer to that heat. A frustrated moan told Oscar to get on with it more quickly.

Somehow reading the impatience in that moan, the Guardian obeyed with an inward chuckle, marvelling at how deliciously tight the body beneath him was. It almost hurt to keep moving, but it was well worth seeing and hearing Sei-Lan's reactions to his rhythmic impalement.

Every one of Oscar's thrusts rubbed against that sensitive spot inside his body, making Sei-Lan nearly mindless with ecstasy. Even the dreams that had awakened him sweat-covered and shaking all paled in comparison to how he felt at this moment. It was if those dreams were merely a forshadowing of this night. After both minutes and an eternity, Sei-Lan came with a cry of his lover's name. Every muscle in his body tensed and spasmed. He'd forgotten how to breathe. His heart beat so fast it was almost a constant, as if it weren't beating at all.

Oscar felt the muscles around his shaft tighten painfully as his friend climaxed. The sounds coming from that mouth pushed the Guardian over the edge. Picking up the pace and breathing heavily, he rode out his own orgasm, spilling into the exhausted body beneath him.

When his vision had cleared, he pulled out carefully and leaned sideways against the back of the sofa to recover, not wanting to crush the other man. He looked at Sei-Lan and smiled. Apparently consciousness had lost a battle to exhaustion within the Tutor. After his breathing resumed its normal pace, Oscar got up slowly, retreived his robe, and put it back on. He then left the room in search of a blanket for his sleeping guest.

~*~*~*~

The sun rose. Oscar sat across the room in a chair by a window, deep in thought. He'd given his servants the day off. It would be rude to let them see the Instructor of Sense wake up the way he was. And considering all the rude and insensitive things the Guardian had done and said the night before, giving Sei-Lan a little privacy this morning was the least he could do.

Oscar had been awake the whole night, staring at his sleeping conquest and counting all the wrong moves he'd made with the young man. It had hit him suddenly, as he started to remember several past conversations the two had had, usually about the way Oscar treated women. How could he have managed to conveniently forget those talks, especially after guessing the Tutor had developed a crush on him?

Sei-Lan had always very adamantly defended those women who rejected the Guardian, saying his reputation as a playboy was starting to become well known. The artist seemed to understand (and tried many times to explain) what it was these women really wanted. And someone who was only after a good time, with no strings attached, was definitely not what they wanted, no matter how charming the man may be. What they did want, the Tutor had explained, was to feel truly loved for who they were, and the assurance that there would be some kind of genuine commitment in a relationship.

Oscar sighed. So much of what Sei-Lan had said during those conversations was merely filed away in Oscar's mind to possibly be used in future approaches. He'd never known when to take the sharp-tongued Tutor seriously, so in these cases, he simply hadn't.

At some point in the hour or so before dawn, Oscar developed a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if Sei-Lan had stronger, deeper feelings for him? His previous hunch had been correct. What if this one was also correct? If this turned out to be the case, it would make sleeping with him the absolute worst thing he could have done. He might have done far worse damage than ruin their friendship. Foolishly, the Guardian dared to hope that the Instructor had simply lusted after him, and that there would be no regrets when Oscar explained it had just been a one-time affair.

Sei-Lan slowly opened his eyes to the bright sunlight shining through a window. He blinked, mind waking up slower than his body, and tried to remember where he was. Within seconds the events of the previous night came rushing back at him. Had it all really happened? He looked down and saw the blanket that had been placed over him after he had lost consciousness and realized he was still naked beneath it. That answered his question.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oscar get up from a chair, fully dressed and looking somewhat haggard. "I'll go get your clothes," he said a bit stiffly. "I'm sorry, I should have brought them in earlier. You'll catch cold." He exited the room.

Any warmth the artist felt at the recollections of the night before vanished as quickly as they'd come. What was that attitude about? Not even a, "Good morning. Did you sleep well after we had sex?" or even the slightest smile? Sei-Lan felt overwhelmed by a cold feeling of emptiness, as if his heart had simply ceased to exist. He should have known. Last night had just been any other night to the Guardian. How could he have been so stupid? He had known that line he used after kissing him had just been another hook, but he'd somehow allowed himself to be the fish. Emptiness began to be filled with anger, shame, and embarrassment.

The Guardian had come back, carrying the Tutor's clothing worn the previous night. He looked at the other man with uneasiness, wondering how he was going to deal with this situation. What he saw was one of the coldest expressions he'd ever seen on the artist's face. Damn it. He'd been right again. And knowing how perceptive Sei-Lan could be, Oscar guessed the younger man had already figured out his position. Things couldn't get any worse. No, they could. Oscar just hoped they wouldn't.

The Tutor had made up his mind. If he didn't get out of this house immediately he was going to either fall apart or get violent. He was embarrassed enough without either scenario taking place. He stood up quickly, but too quickly it seemed, as black spots swarmed into his vision. Sei-Lan staggered, trying to avoid Oscar's arms as they attempted to steady him. He grabbed his clothes as he steadied himself and turned around, dressing as quickly as he could manage. Tears were threatening to break through. He would not have that! Not until he was safely away from here.

Oscar felt as if he should say something, but couldn't think of a single thing. Messing with a wit like Sei-Lan's on a good day was always a risk, but at a time like this? He didn't want to think of what things such a creative mind would come up with if he even dared any clumsy attempt at speech.

He finished dressing, managing to keep his eyes dry by thinking of his classes. Those stupid antics the girls kept pulling in attempts to get his attention and approval were so harmless, so far removed from any of this. Trying to keep these thoughts present long enough for him to leave was his goal, and so far it was working. He made his way toward the front door, moving as fast as his dizziness would allow.

"But you're ill; you should let me-" it slipped out before Oscar could stop it.

Sei-Lan froze, his anger nearly taking over. Not daring to turn around he growled through clenched teeth. "Let you what? Let you take advantage of someone who was also ill last night?" He couldn't risk saying anything more. His nerve was failing, and his eyes began to water once again. The weak "I'm sorry" he heard behind him made everything even worse. He left the house as fast as he could run, hoping to find some place out of the way where he could be alone.