At exactly two o'clock, Zechs appeared in the doorway of training room, dressed for a fencing match. I, of course, was already there and preparing for the match.
There were very few words as we began, but there was no animosity, either. There simply were no words needed, and the battle began with a rakish grin from him and a competitive sneer from me.
The swords sang as we danced as we danced to an ancient song of testosterone and adrenaline. Hearts beat in time with the strike of swords, and footfalls created the beating of drums. Within minutes we were both soaked in sweat and grinning like loons.
"It seems we are evenly matched in a fair fight," Zechs said.
"Almost," I responded, "as you are older, wiser, and stronger, but," I said as I quickly made a daring move with my sword by putting the tip of it just behind the hilt of his sword. Then, with a flick of my wrist, his sword flew from his hands, "it seems that I have more experience."
Zechs was stunned and bewildered by my move, but, unlike other masters, he didn't get the slightest bit angry with me for besting him. On the contrary, he laughed as he retrieved his sword.
"How in the world did you come up with a move like that?" he wondered, still looking at his sword with a bit of confusion. "I thought my sword had taken wing."
"When you practice a skill for hours a day, every day, for three years, you begin to get... creative," I told him. "Sheer boredom can be a strangely good motivator," I admitted.
"I see. Can you perform any other tricks?" he wondered, still grinning. I rolled my eyes, but revealed to him that I could balance the tip of my sword on the end of three fingers. He laughed out loud, at this. "You look like a trained seal," he scoffed. I glared, flipped the sword, caught it, and playfully raised it to his throat. "I very pissed of trained seal," he said, the laughter gone, but humor still lighting his eyes. I rolled my eyes again, then put my sword back in the case. Zechs followed a moment later, and deposited his beside mine.
"All joking aside," he said more seriously, "your skills are amazing, especially for your age. I can see how you would be able to win the competition every year," he said, turning to me, pride glowing in his eyes. I blushed, knowing that I had been given all the best in order to learn those skills, and that someone else probably could have used that much time and effort to become a much better swordsman than I was.
"It is nothing," I responded, lowing my eyes. I felt something brush the side of my face, and looked up to see Zechs pushing a stray hair off of my forehead. Our battle must have dislodged it, for it was usually pulled back into a severe ponytail, but I was almost grateful for it. If it meant more of these affectionate touches, perhaps I would not use such a tight rubberband any more.
Our eyes met then, and I felt his crystalline blue gaze pull me toward him with the sureness of gravity, and it seemed as though he felt it too, for our faces slowly came together. In another moment, our lips touched, and a jolt of lust struck me. Zechs began exploring my lips with his own, and I eagerly opened my mouth to him, allowing his tongue to dart in before it even sought entrance. Zechs did not disappoint, and our tongues resumed the battle that our hands had given up. Neither did our hands stay idle, for Zechs' slipped his up to grasp my shoulders, as I raised mine to touch his hair. We were panting once again, both consumed by the heat of our groins. When Zechs urged me to the matted floor, I followed eagerly.
Removed for content.