Elements of Chack
By: CrystallicSky
Warnings: Cursing, sexual situations/innuendos, etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters; just borrowing 'em for fun! XD
Fire- Chase stared down at his sleeping mate, the boy fully-dressed and curled up before the roaring fireplace of the Spicer mansion. Normally, the warlord would not have questioned such an action, pegging it as just the sort of thing for Jack to do: stay up late playing video games in the living room and then just fall asleep upon the carpeted floor. However, there was no console or game system to speak of anywhere out in the open, and if the goth had been conscious enough to put such a thing away in the cabinet beneath the television, he would certainly have had enough energy to at least order one of his machines to drag him to bed. No, Chase knew, something about his Jack being here was off: the youth had to have a reason for this. The warlord did not need to look for clues long, a small bit of yellow paper sticking out of his lover's lax fist easily catching his eye. Plucking it away from Jack's hand, he smoothed out the inadvertently crumpled thing to see it was a Post-It note, something quickly scribbled upon it in what was most likely a woman's handwriting. Happy Birthday, Jackie! Your father and I have an important meeting that we just can't get out of, but don't you worry, honey: we'll be home by ten at the latest, and then all three of us can have a party for you in the living room just like we used to! Love, Mom. Chase looked to the boy curled up before the fireplace once more, a next to unknown pity welling up in him at the knowledge that the youth had to have waited up hours past the time his mother had specified in the desperate hope of seeing both of his parents in one place just for him. "Oh, Spicer," he found himself sighing to his unconscious beloved, "you hope for the impossible, and yet you neglect to tell the one person who can make the impossible real that it is even your birthday." Knowing there was nothing for it, Chase knelt to the plush carpeting, scooping the dozing goth into his arms and simply holding him close. At the very least, he figured, Jack would feel marginally better upon awakening in the morning to discover that he had not been left alone by everyone that supposedly cared for him with only a roaring fire as company throughout the night.
Water- Jack watched as if in a daze as Chase went through his morning exercises. It happened every morning, so really, the goth didn't know why it mesmerized him so much, but it was as if he couldn't look away. Every movement the warlord made was smooth and elegant, fluid and practiced as if this man had done nothing in his life but learn to move as powerfully and as beautifully as water; easily able to fluctuate between a calm, gentle stream and a quick, unforgiving waterfall. The fascinating thing about that thought, however, was that such a statement was probably true, and a lifetime (or more) had been spent getting these motions so perfectly practiced; which was entirely okay, because he had loads of lifetimes to spare, anyways. A low moan escaped the goth's throat as he was once more reminded of how sheerly awesome this man was and how goddamned lucky he was for somehow managing to catch his eye. Chase stopped in the middle of his routine at the noise and stared hard at his lover. "Spicer," he began, "are you alright? You look as if you've been hypnotized." Jack snapped out of his spellbound state, trying in vain to think of something intelligent to say. "I…I was just checking to see if the…wall." The dragonlord raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Unfortunately, Spicer, I'm afraid that made no sense whatsoever. Care to try again?" The youth only grunted dazedly, and that's when Chase realized that the boy's red eyes were not on his face but on his unclothed upper-body, and they seemed unable to tear themselves away. Putting this together with Jack's nearly inaudible moan and lack of coherence, it was not a huge leap to determine what was on the genius' mind. A predatory grin took his lips and he purred, "Spicer…" A shiver visibly coursed the goth's spine and the warlord's grin only broadened. "Has watching me exercise made you all hot and bothered?" "Uh-huh," Jack found himself pitifully admitting, his feet suddenly interesting. "Well," the man decided with a smirk, deftly curling an arm about the goth's waist, "I suppose going one morning without completing my training shan't kill me…" Jack would have cooed happily at the concession were his lips and tongue not suddenly occupied with another mouth altogether, and he forfeited his will right then and there: he was overjoyed to be allowed the privilege of drowning in the ocean that was Chase Young.
Earth- Chase hated how impossible it was these days to find a lover who didn't mind the occasional rough sex. People in this age were brought up so fixed on the concept of love being beautiful and gentle to the extent that by the time the warlord got to them, they'd already been corrupted into thinking that if the sex wasn't 'lovemaking,' it was somehow kinky or violent, and truly, it angered the man. Was there not one person in this modern world that realized rough sex could be fun and didn't have to be those things? One individual that would concede to stepping outside the bounds of lovey-dovey things every once in awhile and just fuck like nature had honestly intended? It had been something of a shocker to discover that Jack Spicer was just such a person after their third or fourth time together, and the warlord had swiftly made use of that lucky fact. With a heated growl, Chase forced his lover's head further against the earth as he rode the boy mercilessly; smirking wickedly at the pleased moans and groans that he received despite the rough action. "Tell me, Spicer," he rumbled breathlessly, "how does dirt taste?" "Fuckin' awesome," the goth answered, his voice somewhat muffled by the soil in his mouth, "and if you stop, I swear to God I'll rip your balls off!" "Well," the man chuckled in response, grinning darkly, "we wouldn't want that now, would we?"
Air- Jack writhed frantically in his confined prison, thrashing violently in a desperate attempt to get free. His limited oxygen supply in here was quickly running out, and his fear of death strengthened his efforts but to no avail: he was caught fast in this tangle, and more than likely, he would die here. All of a sudden, however, his prison was torn open and the goth burst through the opening, gasping deeply for breath and gulping down air like a fish out of water. Chase simply stared at him from the other side of the bed, his hand still holding the peeled back blankets. He shook his head at the youth, scoffing, "You are such a drama queen, Spicer." "Shut up," Jack snapped at him, "I almost died! Get less blankets, dammit!"
Ice- It was…frustrating. Chase Young had spent years of his life building up a cold front, a frigid mask of indifference with which to face the world, and it was necessary: his lifespan was eternal, and without the wall of cruelty he had erected around himself, it would be an eternity of heartbreak caused by people who had gotten too close. But now…here was this boy: this…this complete and utter fool of a moron that had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and was destroying all of his hard work from the inside in a fraction of the time it'd taken to build up! Worst of all, it seemed, the warlord could find no will within himself to stop it. Jack gave a quiet snort in his sleep and tightened his arms around his lover, cutely nuzzling his cheek more comfortably against the man's stomach. Chase could practically hear the hiss and drip of quick-degenerating ice at the action and he sighed, muttering, "Keep it up, Spicer: a little longer and you'll have melted my walls to the ground…"
Light- "Chase," Jack began, intent on asking something he'd been pondering for awhile now, "why's it always so freaking bright in your place? I mean, don't you have super-senses or something, in which case extreme sensory information like really bright lights would hurt you?" The warlord gave what looked like a nod, agreeing, "The light does impair me to some extent, but it is a choice I made purposefully. I could keep my home in complete darkness, in which I can see quite well, so that whenever an enemy makes the mistake of confronting me, they, with their normal senses, would be blind and helpless; unable to retaliate. I choose to keep the lights as bright as possible," he explained with a wicked grin, "because I want my foes to be able to see perfectly. I want it to be known that I want my enemies in ideal, unimpaired condition so that there will be no question in their minds as to what hit them, despite the cost being the finer points of my own vision: I want it known that even impaired, I am confident enough to face any foe." Jack gaped at his lover for a long, quiet moment. "Fuck," he said at last, "that is awesome… And you wonder why you're my evil-hero?!"
Electricity- Jack Spicer did not know magic, Chase mused to himself, but surely there was something to be said for his wizardry of anything technological. Given the time and drive, it seemed, the boy could craft absolutely anything within the realm of imagination with those calloused, white hands. What puzzled the warlord, however, was the extreme caution the boy took whenever he worked on some project or other, at least six or seven of his robots hovering around him at all times and not even seeming to serve a particular purpose. Finally, he had gotten around to asking his lover why. "For protection," Jack easily answered, not looking up from the metal shell of what would soon be a repaired Jack-bot where his fingers fiddled with various wires. "It used to happen a lot that I'd be working on one of these babies and the monks'd smash through my wall, scare the crap out of me, and I'd accidentally zap myself, which sucks and has a lot of medical ramifications. With a couple bots around, I'll get warned about two or three seconds before they actually burst in here, and that's usually enough for me to safely drop whatever I'm working on." Chase found himself raising an eyebrow, wondering, "What sort of medical ramifications, Spicer?" The boy shrugged. "You've probably heard of it before: neuropathy?" "I'm afraid I haven't," the man admitted. "Care to elaborate?" "Well, basically, it's just a term describing any disorder of the peripheral nervous system, and it can result from repetitive, non-fatal electric shock." Jack made a vague gesture to the robot he was fixing and then the wall which had been so many times patched up to the extent that there were now two completely different colors to it. "I lucked out and only ended up with damage to the motor nerve: you know, loss of balance and coordination, muscle weakness, cramps, et cetera." "So it isn't simply that you're clumsy?" the warlord inquired, a note of realization in his voice. "Nope," Jack replied, "just one too many shocks. At this point, really, I'm just trying to keep it from getting worse, 'cause I mean, how bad would it suck for you alone, much less me, if I lost my bladder control and became sexually dysfunctional?" Chase's eyes widened. "The condition is that serious?" "Yeah," the goth nodded, "that'd be if it was autonomic nerve damage. Even if it were sensory nerve damage, though, there'd be numbness and pain and stuff to a really bad extent, so I'm just trying to keep what I've got at motor nerve damage and no worse: preventative medicine, you know?" Chase 'hm'-ed quietly. "I think I have a better idea, Spicer." He bent and kissed his lover gently before disappearing altogether. By the time Jack had his damaged robot up and operational, the Xiaolin monks had been given a very threatening lecture by a growling dragonlord detailing just where he would put all the pieces of their combined bodies should his mate be in pain or unable to perform sexually because they had not called ahead to say they would be stopping by the goth's lair.
Darkness- It was late. Jack had just gotten home twenty minutes ago from an extremely boring business party and he was naturally exhausted and ready to blow his brains out; not to mention, of course, how dirty he felt from all of the women twice or thrice his age that had been flirting with him none too slyly. He had figured a nice, hot shower would do him good, and so here he was standing beneath the almost scalding spray of water, sighing in pleasure. The goth had left the lights off on the whim of not wanting to deal with anymore brightness (the party had been excessively lit by sixteen too many chandeliers) and his sore eyes were thanking him for it, appreciatively closed and not even taking in the shred of light that was to be found in the bathroom. "Spicer!" Jack shrieked in surprise and practically fell through the shower curtain, dripping wet and steam still dissipating off of his body from the transition of hot water to cool air before falling to the tiled floor. The youth looked up to see who had interrupted his shower. "Chase?!" He gasped, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment and he quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, scrambling to his feet. "What are you doing here?!" The warlord stared down at him (not by much, as Jack had grown a bit and now stood only half an inch shorter than the man) with a sneer. "Perhaps you should put some clothes on first, Spicer, and then I can answer your question without having to look at you nude." It was not what was said but the way in which it was said that suddenly had Jack angry, and he indignantly snapped, "Well, you know, maybe should show up at appropriate times, when I'm already dressed! I mean, this has gotta be the fourth or fifth time you've walked in on me half-naked; am I supposed to believe the omniscient Chase Young can't acknowledge I'm naked and wait five minutes until I'm not? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to see me nude!" A chill swept through the darkened room, and just as the goth was starting to think it might not have been a good idea to tell Chase off, the man made the frigid inquiry of, "So what if I was?" Jack went still at those words, but he suddenly found himself stepping back as the warlord stepped forward. "What if I do purposefully encounter you in less than clothed states to better look at you? So what if I like what I see and want to keep looking?" The goth soon found himself cornered up against the wall, the tiles cold on his bare back as golden eyes, glowing in the darkness, burned a hole into his skull. A hand tugged at the towel around his waist, almost completely loosening the weak knot it formed and Chase Young growlingly challenged, "Are you going to stop me, Spicer?" Jack stared the short distance up at the warlord, taking only half a second to decide. "Hell no," he said with a mischievous little grin, shifting his hips just enough to finish pulling the knot of his towel loose. For a split second, Chase seemed surprised, but this expression was quickly replaced with a darkly pleased one that Jack decided he really liked. "Excellent," the man purred, before pulling him into a heated kiss.
A/N: So, my winter break is winding to a close, and basically, I'm just trying to post as many fics as I can before that time. This is actually the last of unfinished fics I started during my case of writer's block ages ago, so I'm cleaning out my 'Incomplete' folder. The classical elements are, as one would figure: fire, water, earth, and air. However, four things is WAY too short for one of these, so I added their more modern counterparts: ice, electricity, light and darkness. I don't actually have any comments on this, so thank you all for reading, and I hope you liked this, 'cause I doubt you'll be hearing as much from me once school does resume! XD (P.S.- I feel I owe Ch4ckSl4sher some credit for 'Darkness', because we were conversing on how often Jack ends up around Chase mostly-naked and that it was either Jack going to great lengths to time it that way or Chase being a dirty pervert and walking in on him naked on purpose. As you can see, 'Darkness' sprung from the latter of theories. XD)