Gems of Chack

By: CrystallicSky

Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight gore, homosexuality, etc.

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Amber-

"Chase," Jack Spicer declared, "I am a motherfucking genius."

"In what way this time?" the everlord inquired, casually inspecting the unimpressive little machine his lover held.

"Okay, okay, okay, watch this," the goth encouraged. He set the machine down, pressed a button, and off the tiny thing was, zooming around the floor of the room like a remote-control car (which was essentially what it was).

Try as he might, Chase saw nothing special about this and demanded, "What is it that makes you a genius for this, again?"

"There's no battery in it," Jack triumphantly informed, "nor was it charged, and look, no plug! I have singlehandedly solved the energy crisis!"

The elder man blinked at the little device still coursing the floor, currently doing a tight figure-eight around his feet that showed that maneuverability had not been compromised with this new power source. "What is powering it, then?" he queried.

"My mom's old broach!" Jack practically laughed in answer. "Isn't it awesome? I was watching this special on TV and it was talking about how amber gives off an electrical charge when it's rubbed, and that sparked off a chain reaction of thoughts in my head that led to this!"

"Isn't amber a fairly soft stone?" the everlord challenged. "Won't it wear down from constant rubbing?"

"Yeah," the genius conceded, "but it's pretty resilient despite its softness, so it's got awhile before that happens, and even when it does, it doesn't matter 'cause even though amber is fossilized tree sap, it isn't a fossil fuel! More can always be made!"

"And how do you figure that?" Chase countered. "It takes quite awhile for tree sap to fossilize, you know."

"Well, duh," the goth replied, "I know that; but with stuff like the Sands of Time at my disposal, I can just take sap from any current tree, bring it back in time, and then come back to the present to retrieve it once it's amber! It's the perfect solution, and it doesn't even hurt the environment to provide for its creation unless planting trees suddenly became a big detriment without my knowledge."

One eyebrow arched elegantly. "Just what is it you're trying to do here, Spicer?" the warlord questioned. "It sounds quite a bit like you're attempting to do something beneficial for humankind; become their savior."

"Oh, hell no," Jack denied immediately, a scowl on his face. "But think about it: the world'll be clean again and without pollution, which is something I've heard you bitching at me to fix for awhile, and then, of course, there's the aspect of control. The amber-supply in the rest of the world will have to run out sometime, and then I, being the only one who knows how to make it, will become the sole provider. I'll run a monopoly over electricity, and at that point, the whole world will pretty much be mine: after all, people nowadays just don't know how to live without power, so if it keeps their TVs and computers and phones working right, they'll do anything I say."

"Presenting them with a new miracle power source, allowing them to put all their eggs in one basket, and then handily take complete control of said basket…" Chase mused. "Mankind will be walking right into it!" A smirk crossed the man's lips and he tugged his young mad genius closer to him. "You are learning how to harness that intellect of yours for Evil, after all; I heartily approve of your plan."

"Awesome," Jack grinned right back. "And I learned from the best."

Amethyst-

"No…nonono, m'not drunk…m'fine…."

"No. You are most certainly not fine. You're obviously drunk. How much have you had?"

"Idunno…two…six…eight goblets? Why's it matter? M'not drunk…"

"It matters a lot. You are drunk."

"No…y're bein' ridiculous. Goblet's made of ame…amy…amee…purple quartz."

"Amethyst?"

"Yeah, that…"

"I don't care what you heard about drinking out of amethyst goblets. There's nothing magical about it, and the laws of science and biology are still in effect: you are drunk."

"No…m'not drunk, dammit. Gods, Spicer, y're more 'nnoying 'n I thought you were," hazy golden eyes glared daggers at the albino trying to wrench the wine from his hands, "'n I thought you were pretty damn 'nnoying."

"Sticks and stones, Chase," the goth frowned, finally managing to get ahold of the goblet carved of amethyst. Were his lover sober, he'd have never had a chance at getting the cup away, but as it was, the man was stone-blind drunk; his reflexes slowed and his grip lax, making the task possible. "You're gonna thank me for this tomorrow, when your hangover isn't any worse than it will be."

The scene made for a ridiculous one, the scrawny, albino tech-wizard dragging a completely gooned, Evil warlord through the hallways of his palace and the man protesting drunkenly all the way.

Eventually, to Jack's eternal relief, they reached the bedroom and Chase was, with some difficulty, tucked into bed.

"I'm gonna sleep in a guest room tonight," Jack informed. "I don't want to be anywhere near you when you wake up with a pounding headache and the urge to puke; you'll probably want to grab onto the nearest living thing and kill it."

"Stay…" the man practically whined in pleading, groping clumsily at his lover's clothing. "Want you...hot, tight, perfect…want…"

"Not when you're this drunk, babe," the albino snorted, amused. "You probably couldn't even get it up. Now," he pushed the dragonlord back to the bed, unlatching the hands from his clothes, "I've got you all set up in here: there's a trash can on both sides of the bed for when you need to throw up, some water bottles on the nightstand to rehydrate you, and a full, already-opened bottle of aspirin for the skull-splitter you're gonna get; that way you don't have to be messing with child-proof caps or foil coverings."

This time, Chase merely grunted in reply and let himself be tucked back in; his bleary, gold eyes slipping closed.

Jack smiled as he left the room, flicking off the light and silently closing the door. The man would surely be an unholy terror in the morning, but for now, it was nice to be able to take care of him.

Crystal-

Chase couldn't help his grin as his lover pranced into the room and almost literally dive-bombed onto the bed.

"Happy new year, Chase!" Jack squealed excitedly as he did so, pressing a sweet and saccharine kiss to the man's cheek.

They were, of course, celebrating the Eastern new year as opposed to the Western new year, but it would've been superfluous for the goth to say, 'happy Chinese new year' as they lived in China.

"Happy new year to you, too, Spicer," the everlord smiled, making room for his consort to get settled on the bed beneath the covers.

"Now, I know we haven't done this before," Jack began, puzzling his overlord as he reached back behind the bed and removed a neatly-wrapped box, "and I don't expect you to give me anything in return since I didn't tell you about it, but…I got you a new year's present."

Chase accepted the small box with a blank expression of confusion. He was usually able to track his lover's actions so well and with so little effort, and yet he had known absolutely nothing about this.

Either he was slipping or Jack was getting trickier, and the elder man knew immediately that his skills had not declined in the slightest.

Regardless, he took the box into his hands and carefully undid the wrapping so that he could lift the lid and see the gift that lie within.

Jack's hesitant expression of waiting immediately switched to one of elation as his beloved's golden eyes went wide with pure shock.

Chase gently took hold of the object in the box and removed it, exposing a crystal figurine to the light in the bedroom. The crystal was of high quality and shaped in a way that suggested it was not done cheaply nor could it be done cheaply.

The figurine itself consisted of two figures: a dragon and a monkey. The dragon was of a similar build as the warlord's own reptilian form and the crystal that made it up was stained in his precise coloring that made it 100% certain that the resemblance was no accident. Clinging to the dragon with obvious, crystalline affection was a monkey; not stained any colors at all. There was one spot of color upon the little animal, and that was its eyes: a blood-red color used to stain the crystal there.

"I thought it'd be something cool to give you," Jack said as his lover inspected his gift. "I mean, it's the new year, and our zodiacs are the dragon and the monkey, so…well, anyways, I've got some relatives working at Swarovski, and I managed to get 'em to do a special design on request."

Chase grinned, carefully setting the beautiful figurine upon the bedside table before turning his attention to his beloved consort. "Thank you, Spicer," he said warmly. "I see for certain now why our signs are so compatible, you charming and sensual monkey."

Jack giggled, amused. "I could say the same of you, my moody and insensitive dragon."

"There's that teasing and playful nature," the warlord rumbled, pushing his mate onto his back and topping him easily. "Let's explore the intensely sexual side…"

"Sure thing, my dominant and authoritative dragonlord," Jack purred in response.

Diamond-

Jack was positive he hadn't meant it.

There was no way such a thing could've been done on purpose; no, no, no, no… Clay Bailey was the Good one, the only one (aside from perhaps Omi) who really cared about sticking to the rules of the Xiaolin and wouldn't do anything like this of his own volition.

Jack was sure that killing Wuya had been an accident.

It had been scary; one of the scariest things the young goth had ever experienced in his life, and not because the only one on the Heylin side that'd ever seen fit to mentor him (however horribly she'd done it) was gone, but because it was very nearly him.

He was in the last place he ever expected to be, at the moment: held tightly in the arms of Chase Young as he shook like an autumn leaf; not crying, but seriously considering it.

The two of them were still in precisely the same position they had stopped in at the abandoned coal mine where the Showdown had taken place. They were alone unless one counted the Heylin witch's corpse at the bottom of a nearby mineshaft.

The monks had fled several long minutes ago, the cowboy in mute horror of what he'd done. They had the Wu, of course, but Jack was much too stunned and shell-shocked to be too terribly bothered by that fact, and Chase didn't seem interested in anything but holding the albino youth. That, of course, only left Wuya to bitch about going after the monks and getting back the Wu, but she couldn't.

She was dead.

And it'd almost been him that was knocked into that mineshaft to his death.

Jack whimpered and clung harder to his Evil hero, desperately holding back tears. He didn't want to cry, not in front of Chase.

One big, gloved hand cupped the back of his skull, its twin moving to splay warmly upon his lower back. "Cry," the warlord said, the firm tone of it making it sound very much like an order.

The goth obeyed it without question and in seconds, he was sobbing piteously against his idol; tears staining the man's breastplate. Once he'd started, it was like he'd opened a floodgate and there was simply no way he could stop the flow of saline from his eyes. He cried until his face was hot, he cried until his chest ached, he cried until his eyes were sore, and he cried until he most largely forgot what the hell it was he was crying about.

Chase simply held him.

Eventually, the tears slowed as they inevitably had to: no one could cry forever. Bloodshot red eyes slipped closed, the excess of tears making them too gummy to reopen easily, and Jack's head fell forward against the chest of the everlord's armor with a dull 'clunk.'

The man listened as the youth's breathing began to even out and inquired, "Spicer?"

"…why me?" Jack wondered after a moment, voice hoarse from sobbing. "Why'd you save me?"

Chase quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Only one of us would've gotten knocked in there," the goth explained in a subdued tone. "You couldn't have carried both of us away from there: maybe our combined weight, like if we were only one person, but two full-grown people…it'd be too much bulk in too awkward a package to get us away quickly enough. You made a choice."

"I did," the warlord verified. "What's your point, Spicer?"

"You made a choice," Jack repeated. "You knew you could only save one of us, and you picked me."

"Yes, I did," Chase easily confirmed.

"Why?" the albino demanded, obviously in shock.

The man quietly pushed the young genius away from him ever so slightly. "Wuya," he explained, "is a bit like that shaft she fell into: not particularly useful on her own, but occasionally, useful things can come from her."

Red eyes blinked up at him in lack of understanding. "Like what, kids?" the goth inquired with a slight grimace. "I thought she was too old for that-oh, please tell me she wasn't pregnant or something!"

Chase sighed in exasperation. "No," he firmly emphasized, "she wasn't. She was, as you said, much too old for pregnancy and even if she weren't, I would not allow her to bear me children. That is not what I meant, in any case."

"Then…what did you mean?" Jack wondered.

"Wuya has this…particular talent for finding untapped skill; raw and unrefined potential in people that could easily lead them to greatness." Chase sneered. "She also has a talent for squandering that potential and driving it into the ground."

The everlord saw the subtle widening of the youth's eyes that meant the boy's genius-mind was beginning to piece things together.

He reached out to the ground beside him and picked up a fist-sized chunk of coal, raising it for the goth to see. "You, Spicer," he informed, "are a bit like this piece of coal. You were introduced to the Heylin side through Wuya, but quite like the metaphor I'm using here, this coal is simply coal no matter what the mineshaft does and should the mineshaft continue to possess the coal, it will never become anything better."

Jack watched with a wide-eyed gaze as his idol's supernaturally-strong grip tightened on the bit of coal, his fist emanating smoke and flame as he called upon his long-unused element of fire in his demonstration.

"In the proper hands, however," Chase explained, "the coal can become more; can be greater than anything it ever could have been stuck in the dark and dank mineshaft." He opened his fist and there, in his palm, sat a magnificent looking diamond, marred only by a bit of black dust which was deftly blown off.

The albino's wrist was caught, holding his palm skyward as the hardest and one of the most beautiful gemstones in the world was placed in his hand.

"You, Spicer," Chase reiterated, "are like this piece of coal: you are unimpressive, now, little more than a resource, but with potential. Like this coal, you have also just changed hands."

Now, that got Jack's attention. "What?" he dumbly inquired.

The dragonlord smirked, a smug and wicked thing. "To my eternal frustration, Wuya happened upon you first," he said. "In ordering you around and getting you involved in the Shen Gong Wu hunt, she made you her apprentice. The rules of the Heylin are very strict on such things: an apprentice cannot get a new master unless the former master dies or willingly gives up their apprentice. Even when she ceased to have any want of you, Wuya refused to revoke your apprenticeship under her."

"Why?" Jack wondered. "She left me totally on my own for awhile! How can that count as apprenticing?"

"Whether she was physically there or not, it doesn't matter: she had to verbally revoke her claim on you and pass you on to another master." A frown took the man's handsome face. "She refused to do so because she knew how badly it would frustrate me: I wanted you."

The goth's genius-brain felt distinctly broken at that. "You what?" he demanded.

"I am not an idiot, Spicer," Chase asserted. "I've seen your potential from the beginning. You have promise, promise that I can help you achieve. Now that Wuya is dead and can make no claim upon you as a ghost…" he smirked again, "you are mine."

For a long while, Jack said nothing. Then… "Awesome…"

The warlord chuckled, dragging the albino to his feet. "I take it you've no protests to offer, then?"

"Hell, no," Jack scowled, "I've only been waiting for this forever!"

Amused, Chase took hold of his new apprentice's chin and leaned forward. "Just so you know, Spicer," he purred, "there will be more to what I am teaching you than combat…"

There was no mistaking the look in golden eyes and the husky tone in the man's deep, robust voice: lust.

Again, Jack was quiet for a moment, and then… "Awesome," he repeated.

Chase laughed. "Excellent, Spicer," he said, "most excellent. Are you ready to return home, my apprentice?"

A brilliant smile took the albino's face. "Hell, yeah, I am!"

The two men were then gone from the abandoned coal mine. The diamond remained behind upon the ground, far from the mineshaft that held the corpse of a spiteful Heylin witch.

Emerald-

For the first time in a matter of centuries, Chase Young had entered into a monogamous relationship.

What was important to remember about this little fact was that, in the time between his last exclusive lover and the current, he had not been inactive. For a span of decades, the everlord had had access to any man or woman on the planet he so desired and had made use of it; often having three or four lovers at one time from which he could pick and choose as he pleased. Now…with only one lover from which to choose…

Well, needless to say monogamy was proving quite hard for the man and he was constantly bombarded by temptation.

Jack had been understanding of this fact from the start. He'd smiled sweetly and promised Chase that nothing he could do would make him leave, even if that was sleeping with another man or woman. He'd simply asked to be told about any slips in control the warlord had and whether or not they'd meant anything.

It had worked out alright, Chase supposed; for awhile, at least. Then the hurt and betrayal had begun to surface in the goth's red eyes, sadness hiding in his voice behind a mask of indifference.

It got to the point where no amount of, 'He/she meant nothing's would help the albino youth disguise his disappointment in his lover, and Chase could not take it anymore.

He hated that burning feel of guilt that welled up in him whenever the genius blinked back tears and lied that he didn't care about the little affairs, and besides that…

Chase feared that one day it would become too much for the ever-sensitive Jack and the youth truly would leave him.

That, the everlord could not tolerate; not for anything.

He had at last decided to go cold turkey-monogamy: only Spicer for him. It was a gruelingly brutal experience; to want sex from a variety of sources and to force himself into only one.

After about a month of attempting this, Chase knew for sure he would require help in keeping Spicer his only supplier of sex.

He went to Spicer himself.

Jack had been immensely surprised to hear that the warlord was trying to be more loyal to him; immensely surprised and gleeful. That the man was making the effort seemed to be enough to make up for all the previous sexual indiscretions in the goth's mind (Chase loved him! He really didn't want any of those other people! He wouldn't do something like this for anyone else's sake!), and he'd happily agreed to help.

About a week later, Jack had come to Chase bearing a gift he claimed would hopefully solve the problem: a necklace.

It was a simple necklace, one with a bronze chain that went well with the warlord's armor and a small, hand-carved heart of emerald.

Emerald, as Jack explained it, was a stone associated with Aphrodite. Supposedly, the goddess imbued it with the power to uncloud a wearer's mind; enabling them to think clearly of past, present, and future. This, it was said, protected lovers from unfaithfulness.

Of course, Chase didn't believe a word of it, then, but it'd been a lovely gift into which his gothic lover had put much effort and at that point, anything had been worth a shot.

The everlord had gone about his life regularly for quite some time wearing the pendant before he eventually realized, to his shock, that three months had gone by and he hadn't even thought about sex with any other besides Jack.

Once he'd realized this, of course, he did think about it, but each time, he decided against it.

He would see an attractive stranger or think about one, consider having sex with them, and then his hand would come to the emerald around his neck and he would remember how romantically unhappy he'd been before Spicer came into his life; how happy he truly was now. He would clearly see blood-red eyes wet with unshed tears, black-clad shoulders in a dejected slump, and a young voice cold and distant in betrayal, and he would very clearly feel the sharp sting of fear that came with even so much as thinking of the albino youth leaving him for good.

It had been a full year, now, since Chase had last shared a bed or truly wanted to with someone other than his Jack, and he sat with the young man upon a loveseat in front of the television; snuggling in toasty cashmere blankets as the goth pressed affectionate kiss after affectionate kiss to his collarbone, declaring his unending love.

All the warlord could think of as he was tenderly assaulted by his grateful beloved's mouth was, 'thank you, Aphrodite…'

Hematite-

Lord Young was looking for a spouse.

Normally, in matters such as these, his mother and father would be the ones to decide who would become his bride and the lucky woman would be chosen from the many rich and distinguished families in the area.

However, the lord's parents happened to be deceased and so the choice was left up to him.

The word went out that the handsome and wealthy Chase Young was choosing his spouse via masquerade ball and that those of all genders and social backgrounds were welcome: the only requirement was that those attending must be within the ages of thirteen and thirty and that all must craft their own masks out of whatever they saw fit.

The night of the ball arrived, excitement and lust buzzing in the air, and Chase was unsurprised to find himself severely disappointed.

The men and women that had arrived to vie for his hand…they were all the same sort of shallow and annoying socialites he was exposed to on a daily basis, and he could hardly stand them for the small portion of time he was forced to spend with them. To have to pick a partner with which to spend his life with of them…

No. Simply…no.

To boot, he was not particularly wowed by any of the masks he saw his guests wearing. Some were made of pricey gemstones, others of velvet or silk; he had even seen a mask made of leaves and branches, but none particularly struck him.

Chase sighed in annoyance as he drifted through the crowd of people, dancing so as to pass the time in revelry and still nothing caught his eye! Ruby, gold, sapphire, emerald, ivory-

Oh…what was that?

The lord purposefully approached one party-goer who stood off to the side, head turned away. From what the man could see, this one in particular was male and perhaps only a few years older than the minimum age requirement and bore a full head of red hair the color of flame. He wore a mask of Chase-couldn't-tell-what, but it was dark and possessed a metallic sheen.

Needless to say, Lord Young was interested.

The stranger gasped aloud as a large, gloved hand took hold of his chin, forcing him to face the prince that was hosting the gala.

Up close, the young man appeared to be somewhere around fifteen or sixteen, as Chase had thought. His skin looked to be a deathly pale and had a good bone structure, making the stranger a handsome young lad without dispute.

His mask was more unique than any the lord had seen all night: it was silverish in color, but much too dark to be silver and shone pleasantly in the light of the ballroom. In it were carved many rune-like designs that were simply beautiful and nicely complemented the young man's red eyes; yes, Chase confirmed to himself in wonder, red!

"Your mask is lovely," he informed the stranger, "as are your eyes."

The prince smirked to see the edge of a pink blush work its way onto pale cheeks beneath the mask, and the youth replied with a simple, "Thank you…"

Chase idly traced a finger along the mask, finding it hard and unyielding beneath his touch. "What is it made of?" he inquired.

"Hematite," the stranger replied.

"And why did you make it of such?" the lord inquired, expecting to be told of the worth of the mineral or some other such greedy reason.

"Because I like the way it looks," the young man informed him.

Such an answer startled Chase, and he couldn't help but laugh. "That is the best answer I have received all night, stranger," he chuckled. "You have a much better chance of winning the throne beside mine than anyone else here, so far. What is your name?"

The redhead smiled coyly at him. "Why don't you guess who I am?"

Golden eyes lit up at the prospect of a challenge. "Interesting," he hummed. "I will play your game. Are you of a poor family?"

"No," the youth denied. "I'm plenty wealthy."

"Then, why have I not seen your face before?" Chase wondered. "Surely, I would remember someone as lovely as you."

The stranger smiled. "My parents are ashamed of me," he said, "because of my skin and my eyes. They don't really let me out of the castle; I never even had a coming-of-age celebration. Not that I wanted one, but nonetheless."

"Ahah, so you dwell in a castle!" the prince declared, having caught the detail in the youth's sentence. "You would belong to a family in the upper-crust of the upper-crust, then."

"Yes," the young man admitted, red eyes twinkling behind his dark metallic mask, "I do."

"Have you any relatives attending the ball?" Chase wondered. There were only three or four people of families with such wealth as the redheaded boy was claiming, and to know if he was related to any of them would be a great help.

"My mother," he answered. "She is still married to my father, but she is under the impression that if she can catch your eye, you will annul her marriage for her."

There was only one woman of the three he had narrowed it down to that fit such a descrption, and with a note of surprise in his voice, Chase declared, "You are Sylvia Spicer's son."

The stranger grinned and took his host's gloved hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it as a gentleman would for a lady. "Jack Spicer, my lord, at your service."

The prince couldn't help but laugh at that, honestly amused. "I must congratulate you, Jack," he chuckled. "We've only been speaking for a very short time, and yet you've already managed to make me laugh twice. I've known men and women for upwards of a decade who failed to do as much even once."

"Happy to achieve the unachievable, Lord Young," Jack smiled.

"Please," the man said, "call me Chase."

Startled, red eyes blinked for a moment. "Chase," the youth said, testing the name on his tongue, "of course."

The prince took a single step closer to the Spicer boy, offering a charming grin and inviting, "Tell me, Jack, would you care to take a trip to my study with me? I could certainly do with getting to know you a bit better."

"But Lord Yo-er, Chase," the pale redhead protested, "the ball isn't over yet."

"I say it is," the man contradicted. "Besides," one hand slipped into the youth's, holding it in a firm, warm grip, "I believe I've found my spouse…"

Jack's face broke out into an elated grin and he allowed himself to be led from the ballroom as the other guests enjoyed the masquerade; entirely unaware of the fact that they'd all lost their chance at the throne.

Jasper-

"Why jasper?" the human wondered, a nervous edge to his voice. It was obvious he wasn't asking out of curiosity, but rather because he needed to be a bit distracted from what was about to happen.

Chase understood the need: had he been the one lying with legs bound in a bath of herbs, about to be given a drastic species change, he would've liked to be distracted as well.

"Jasper protects against bites," he said, "specifically spider and snake bites." He moved in closer to where the youth lay almost fully-immersed in the strong-smelling liquid, his dark-scaled tail flicking idly behind him as he draped the necklace of green jasper beads about a white throat. "Because you will require my venom for this spell to work, it would be best if you did not succumb to it before the transformation is complete."

Jack shivered at the mention of the 'transformation.' "I'm scared," he willingly admitted to the naga looming above him, "and I think this herb-crap is making me nauseous…"

"Would you like to back out?" the snake-man inquired. "It's not too late to do so."

The redheaded boy appeared to honestly consider it. In the end, however, it seemed his desire to be with the creature he'd fallen in love with was stronger than his fear of giving up his humanity, for he eventually said, "No…I still…I want to."

"Good," Chase smiled.

Red eyes watched as the naga dipped in closer, taking hold of Jack's arm. The reptile was thankful for the fact that the boy was albinistic, as the translucence of his white skin made finding the median antebrachial vein beneath much easier than it would be with someone darker-skinned. It had to be as far from the heart as possible: if the poison reached the youth's heart and lungs before the transformation was complete, it would all be for nothing. Hell, if Chase could get a good bite into any of the tiny-tiny veins in Jack's hand or fingers, he'd do it there! As it was, the wrist would have to do.

Jack grunted as the snake's fangs sunk into his flesh, pumping just enough venom into his bloodstream to make the spell work. Considering the lethality of Chase's venom, it was still enough to kill him should it be allowed to.

The naga immediately began the incantation as the goth's skin began to prickle and break out into a cold sweat. Jack soon grew deaf to Chase's voice and could only focus on the sensations he was feeling: the internal heat burning in his lower half, the itch of his skin, and the pain…!

Jack screamed a bloodcurdling scream, hands latching on to the edge of the tub in which he was submerged and gripping until his already-white knuckles went whiter. Though his legs were bound tight with rope, they kicked and thrashed instinctively, sloshing the herbal bath violently.

Chase saw the youth's legs slowly fusing together; flesh melding and bones knitting into a flexible extension of his spine, growing longer with each passing second. He saw the goth's skin flush an irritated red before breaking out into scales; lovely, but patchy and uneven in covering in such a way that Jack would have to shed his skin quite soon after this finished should he want to move about on his own painlessly.

The naga did not pause in his enunciation of the incantation for a second despite the change and the screams: should he stop or falter, Jack would die.

Besides, he was nearly finished.

Jack's scream intensified to a glass-shattering shriek as the final words were spoken and his hips bucked unintentionally, sending his newly-grown tail into a flick that snapped through the air like the crack of a bullwhip.

Immediately, the youth slumped back into the bath of herbs like a puppet whose strings had been cut, all energy gone. His head fell back in limp exhaustion and his death grip upon the edges of the tub went completely lax.

Chase slithered closer as the albino panted for breath, slowly coming to an equilibrium in his new body. Jack's tail was long and slender, the elder naga noted, covered in iridescent white scales from the hips down; the new appendage was too big to fit in the tub with the rest of the boy and so a good five or six feet of it hung out over the edge to brush against the ground.

"Congratulations, Spicer," he purred, causing the goth to tiredly pick his head up with some effort, "you survived."

Red eyes drifted to the tail where his human legs had once been, and inside his mouth, his tongue brushed against a new set of fangs that were surely dripping with venomous poison. He knew, deep down, that he should be really, really freaked out about all this, but…

He wasn't.

It was what he had asked Chase to do for him, and besides that, he was too tired to be freaked out. The change felt natural enough, anyways.

Natural-feeling as it was, Jack was still unused to manipulating his new body and so his first attempt to extract himself from the tub of herbal water resulted in his tail folding awkwardly in on itself as his arms weakly attempted to push his body up.

Needless to say, it failed, and he fell back into the bath with a splash and a grunt of embarrassment.

Strong arms scooped him up before he could try again on his own or protest. "Don't worry about it," Chase dismissed, easily plucking the albino from the tub. "Your tail is new: you cannot be expected to know how to use it so soon. I will teach you how to slither and manipulate it as you like at a later date."

"Why not now?" Jack wondered, yawning and resting his head against a broad, masculine chest.

The elder naga merely chuckled. "You've answered your own question, Spicer," he said. "You are tired: rest."

The redheaded youth willingly complied, slipping into a dreamless slumber as the snake-man carried him yet deeper into the jungle, where no human would ever find him.

Malachite-

Jack Spicer's lung had been punctured in a recent Showdown when Katnappé had tripped the boy down a museum's staircase.

No one had noticed or cared at the time when they saw the goth settled at the bottom of the stairs, taking his convulsing movements to mean simply that he was alive and of little consequence.

It was only by miracle of having so many of his robots on hand at all times that he was able to be moved back to his mansion quickly and safely where his self-designed Medbots were capable of handling delicate and time-sensitive procedures such as the one he required, and so he survived, albeit weak and in need of being hooked up to a machine that disabled the function of his punctured lung while providing itself as a temporary replacement.

After all, the internal stitching would not remain in place if the delicate flesh was expanding and contracting with breath all the time.

Jack had been frantic and panicked upon waking for the first time after surgery, feeling lopsided as he breathed and knowing nothing of what was going on. He had been so hysterical, in fact, that his bots had necessity of sedating him to keep him from disconnecting himself from the machine that was helping him breathe and keeping the stitches upon his lung from tearing and had refused to allow him to awaken again until he was properly healed.

No one had visited, Chase thought to himself, offended on his consort's behalf; no one but him, of course.

He hated to see Spicer like this, and not simply because it meant he was out a lover for quite some time (though he wasn't fond of that, either). It sincerely bothered him that, had one tiny thing gone wrong, Jack would be very much dead right now, and all because the goth yet insisted upon attending Showdowns!

Well, the dragonlord firmly decided, not anymore. This little incident would provide irrefutable evidence for the stubborn albino as to just why he would not be competing in any more battles for Shen Gong Wu until he had learned some sort of self-defense (or at the very least, how to balance himself properly so as not to be able to be tripped down a flight of stairs).

For the meantime…

Jack was entirely unconscious, his white skin yet more pallid as a machine did 50% of his breathing for him while the stitches upon his lungs slowly healed.

Chase sighed and removed the gift he'd brought his heavily-sedated lover from his pocket: a polished piece of malachite. It was said that malachite had the power to aid in the regeneration of the body and could create a calm and peaceful atmosphere in which one could sleep.

If there was anything Spicer needed now, it was sleep and healing.

A gloved hand placed the small present upon the goth's slim and hairless chest, providing a stark contrast between the white of the albino's flesh and the deep greens and blacks of the banded stone.

"Heal well, Spicer," he said, pressing an affectionate kiss to the youth's lax mouth. "Time is no factor: I've all the time in the world to wait for you."

Moonstone-

Emperor Young had just had what was perhaps the hardest day of his entire life.

China was experiencing so many problems at the moment; socially, financially, and politically, it was in a state of turmoil. Civilians threatening revolt, an economic crisis, war on the horizon…

It was nothing short of a nightmare, really.

Chase was, in actuality, a very good emperor: were he anyone else, China very well might have dissolved by now into sheer chaos and disorder. Even as good a ruler as he was, however, he simply could not fix everything.

He was doing the best job he was able and getting immeasurable flack for it to the extent that he was forced into this: retreating to his bedchambers in the middle of the day to find solace from the only source he could.

A small white stone sat in his palm, one easily identified by its adularescence as moonstone. It was round in shape, almost a complete sphere but still closer to an oval-shape than anything.

Chase had found this small stone when he was but a child in the palace gardens, and from that moment on, it had been his closest companion.

It was renowned as a lucky stone, so he'd immediately taken it, hoping to inherit some of the luck in his studies.

Oddly enough, it had actually worked. From the moment he found and took the small bit of moonstone for his own, he had excelled tenfold in everything that he did: he was able to focus deeper on his literary and mathematical studies, his skill in physical combat had skyrocketed, and he'd even acquired this incredibly handy ability to charm the pants off any adult (quite a useful thing if he ever wanted to get out of punishment).

It was enough that his parents noticed and asked how he'd come by this sudden burst of skill.

Of course, being the honest child he was, he told them of the little stone he'd found and how it must have been the cause of his good fortune.

"Oh," his mother had cooed, taking it from his outstretched palm, "a moonstone! These are very lucky, you know." Chase had nodded and she'd continued, "What a fortunate thing to find, little one! These are said to relieve anxiety and bring down fevers; I've even heard it told that they protect travelers from harm!"

She was humoring the future-emperor with myths and legends about the stone, of course, not truly believing any of them, but Chase had believed her.

The empress had then turned to her husband, a grin on her face and love in her eyes. "Your father gifted me with one of these stones on our wedding night," she'd spoken, still addressing her child though her eyes were not on him. "The spirit inside it inspires love and passion."

"Spirit?" the young boy had wondered curiously.

"Oh, of course," his mother had explained, holding the stone out to her son so he could see. "Do you see that blue light that shines on it?" Chase did and nodded, staring at the blue shimmer with an expression of utmost seriousness. The woman's slender hand tilted the stone slowly left and right, allowing the light to bounce off it and move the shimmer across its surface. "That is the spirit," she told her child, "and that is it moving inside of the stone."

The young Chase was awed, as any child would be at the thought of a spirit living inside of their very own luck-charm, and he'd taken the moonstone back, cradling it gently in his small hands.

"Take care of that stone, my son," his father advised. "When you are older, you, too, can give it to your wife as a gift."

The boy frowned, his nose wrinkling. "Girls are awful," he'd immediately declared. "I don't want to marry."

The then-emperor had merely chuckled at his son's aversion to the female persuasion: he and every other boy in the world had gone through it at least once. "Very well, then," he'd laughingly conceded, "you don't have to marry; you can simply let that stone-spirit be your wife!"

Chase had taken it all to heart, and later that night, he had attempted to coax the spirit out of the stone.

He hadn't been sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been for a transparent image of a boy, a few years younger than himself, to appear above the moonstone, smiling at him!

An interesting conversation ensued.

"Wh…what are you?" Chase had cautiously inquired.

"The spirit of the stone," the boy answered, as if to say it was obvious. "You…did call me out…didn't you?"

"I did," the future emperor admitted. "I guess…I just wasn't expecting you to actually do it."

"I'm sorry," the spirit apologized, eyes of red sheepishly downcast. "Do you want me to…go away?"

"No!" Chase exclaimed. "No, I just…no, you can stay."

The spirit smiled. "Thank you," it said. "My name is Jack."

"I'm-"

"Chase," Jack interrupted, "I know. I've been with you for awhile."

That reminded the emperor-to-be and he wondered, "Why have you been helping me?"

"I like you," the spirit admitted. "I want you to be happy, so…I've been helping you. I could stop if you wanted me to."

"You don't have to," Chase allowed, not wanting to seem selfish in front of his new friend by saying he wanted to keep the luck he'd been given. "My dad said I should take good care of you. How'm I supposed to do that?"

"There's not much to do," Jack had promised. "Just be gentle with me. I'm not as hard as a lot of other stones, so I scratch easily." When the boy nodded, he added, "And if you can, polish me every so often so I don't get dirty. That's about it. Why do you want to take care of me?" he'd inquired.

"Because you're going to be my wife, someday," the future emperor haughtily declared. "I want to be a good husband."

The moonstone spirit had grinned at him. "Okay," he allowed, "and I'll be a good wife by helping you in everything you do!"

The years had passed and when the time came for Chase to assume the throne, he refused to be married. He allowed no female suitors even remotely near him and had the palace harem, still filled with women of his father's choosing, entirely emptied and did not refill it.

Instead, he had the little bit of moonstone set in a lovely and intricate wedding band that he wore always upon his finger, claiming it to be a symbol of his dedication to country: his focus was solely on China; he needed no wife!

But he knew it was because he was already married, and his wife would not appreciate a woman in his life.

Chase needed no women.

He sat alone, now, in his bedchambers, the white and blue-glimmering stone removed from his ring and cradled lovingly in his palms; the very way he'd held it on the day he found it as he played in the palace gardens.

A transparent, white shape materialized before him, becoming a lean young man with red hair and eyes.

Pale arms wrapped around the emperor, holding him with the sort of deep affection that could only come from love. "I'm doing the best I can for you," Jack promised his husband. "Things will get better."

"I know," Chase assured, returning the spirit's embrace. "I trust you. I just…need you right now."

Jack gave his beloved a tender smile, warm and sweet as he pressed the man back to the bed, joining him momentarily. "I'm here," he said. "I'm here for you, Chase."

Chase relaxed and let his moonstone do its job, relieving his anxiety with a well-deserved session of cuddling.

The emperor was sure tomorrow would be better.

Opal-

Jack purred in pleasure as he was thoroughly petted and stroked by his dark sex-god.

The albinistic goth with asocial and sociopathic tendencies had grown up largely an outcast and very infrequently had contact with others (especially after he was pulled out of school for that chalk-incident). Naturally, he loooooved attention and from any source.

To begin receiving it in abundance from his idol and Evil hero the very moment he reached a legal age was a wonderful development in his life. Chase didn't actually hate him; he was just frustrated with himself for wanting Jack when he was underaged!

This explained to him, the goth had brightly informed the warlord that he was a perfectly-legal piece of ass, now, and oh, you want me as your sex-minion? Rut away!

Thankfully, the man had done so, and Jack Spicer was now the proud pet and consort of Chase Young, most Evil man to ever live and still continue to.

The albino lie languidly in his master's lap at the current moment, mostly human-formed. He had questioned the merits of Chase using his magic to turn him into a feline minion like all his other minions, but scratches at the base of the tail and just behind the ear were practically orgasmic, totally worth the change.

Besides, no one could say he didn't make one dashing snow leopard when fully-formed.

As he was, he only had the ears, tail, and claws at the moment: he had just pleasured his master, and Chase was not into bestiality, after all (though Jack had lately wondered what it might be like for them to do it when they were both animal-formed; likely interesting).

"Oh, Spicer," the warlord began, scratching a pleasant line down the middle of the goth's back as he raked greedy, golden eyes over white-white flesh marred only by marks made with his mouth and nails, "your skin is as though pure white snow flashed and sparkled with the color of bright ruddy wine…I am overcome by your radiance."

"Pfft," Jack snorted, "what are you quoting?"

"A description of the opal in the crown of the Holy Roman Emperor," Chase replied with a smirk. "Orphanus, it was called."

"Opal…" the goth hummed. "Isn't opal supposed to release inhibitions and intensify or stabilize emotions?"

"Indeed, it is, my consort," the everlord confirmed, pleased. "It is also associated with desire and eroticism; love and passion."

Jack visibly shivered as Chase's strong fingers drifted to scratch pleasantly at the base of his tail, just as he liked it. "Mmmm, wax more poetic about me, master," he coaxed. "You're pretty good at flattery."

Chase simply chuckled at that. "I don't believe I should," he said. "Your ego is already massive; I can't imagine what would happen to it should I quote ancient literature and poetry to you on a daily basis."

Jack snickered. "Yeah, I'll give you that one," he conceded. "But keep scratching there: it feels soooo good…"

"That much, I can do, my pet," the warlord allowed with a sharp grin.

--

A/N: All I've got to say about this one is that Hematite was for Silvarbelle and these excerpts prompted Crystal:

Monkeys, of all the other signs, are the most promiscuous. They are flirtatious and like to seek the attention of others to get what they want. They are easily bored and must be stimulated intellectually as well as physically in order to stay around for extended periods of time. The Monkey can be clever, mischievous and manipulative when pursuing a love interest. Monkeys are intense, sensual lovers. They can tease or charm anyone in a matter of seconds. They enjoy entertaining their lovers with their senses of humor and their ability to captivate a crowd. When the Monkey decides on a mate, it is likely to be forever.

--

Dragons are quick to fall in love, but do not surrender their independence easily leaving most of them to live life by themselves. Yet, an smart, witty, and funny companion may intrigue the Dragon long enough to make him want to get married. And once the Dragon becomes committed, he is unlikely to ever leave. Negatively, Dragons are egotistical and love to be the center of attention. Modesty is not one of his assets. Add to that the Dragon temper and you have a bossy, dominating and authoritative being. They hate solicited advice and can be hopelessly tactless and insensitive to their lovers.

--

PARTNERS IN LOVE

Dragon*Monkey

You share opinions and goals that destine you for happiness.

Monkey*Dragon

You share similar points of view and a common understanding.

On a completely unrelated note, this is the very first prompt-fic I've ever done that's been SO long I've had to split it up into two pieces. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.