Author's Note: Well, we all know who IZ belongs to. Bast, though, is the property of the one and only Invader Bast. Lots of angst and slash themes , as well as the wonderful scent of lemons, in this story. You've been warned. Nyar! Enjoy!

Violet Musings

My heart is a jealous master. He commands all of my emotions, leaving my mind far behind and dizzy with confusion. Do I hate him? Do I love him? My mind, my instincts, they say I should hate. He is competition, a rival. He must be destroyed. Yet why does my body ache to feel his touch?

Battle, war, glory - these have shadowed me all my life, the driving impetus behind what an Irken should be. Yet when he looks at me from beneath dark lids, crimson eyes flashing with a promise of delight, a lifetime of training melts away. Would that I could strip away the armor that stands like an invisible wall between us.

I peer over the top of a report to watch him, the paper crinkling in my hands. He stands over a product of his own genetics - a creature nearly foreign to our way of life - his daughter. Little Bast, what does he show you today? Combat of some sort most likely. He always does enjoy a good fight. Perhaps he speaks of his past conquests, though he will not tell you of how he conquered me.

Ah, little Bast, you have pleased him, for he reaches down to stroke your head. Deep in the back of my throat I start to growl, base animal instincts urging me to rip you from him. You have stolen away a touch that should have been mine. Had he been in my place, he would have followed through with his desires for he enjoys the catharsis of simple action. Musing is not as much a part of his nature as it is mine.

He glances at me, catches me watching, and in that single moment I drown a thousand times in his fiery orbs. As he smiles that smiles of his which would set devils to quaking, he mouths a single word, and then turns his attention back to Bast and her training.

"Tonight," he'd promised in that single moment. Tonight. I can be generous and allow Bast her one touch, for tonight a thousand touches will be mine.

*~*~*~*~*

The day crawls along in its petty pace, knowing how eagerly I await its end. My willpower is stronger, though, and I outlast the day. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wait. My antennae prick forward at the sound of his familiar knock - two quick taps at the door followed by a long pause and then another two taps. He never enters my room uninvited, for this is my territory.

I slide open the door and he is there, lounging easily against the doorframe as if he belonged. I reach out, fingers closing on his spindly arm, and draw him inside. He leans against me, soft cheek rubbing against the side of my face. "Purple," he murmurs, breath hot on my neck. At last we two are alone, free from the rigidity of custom and tradition.

We slide our gauntlets off, reveling in the simple sensation of casting off chains. I pause as I watch him, reaching that awkward moment where I'm not sure what to do next. He is there to rescue me from my indecision, reaching out to unfasten the snaps on my chest plate. A soft grunt escapes me as the heavy weight is lifted from my shoulders.

He kneels, rubbing his head against my bared chest like some oversized cat. I work quickly, and with two soft clicks, his armor joins mine. Pushing, nudging, not speaking, he presses me down onto the bed. A dance such as few Irkens are honored to know we will perform. For we precious two are halves about to become whole.