Ok, several things to say before the story 'cough' begins. I do not own any of the following characters, they are property of R.A. Salvatore and above him, Wizards Of The Coast (not to be confused with Necromancers of the Northwest, of course). Maybe more important than hypocrite disclaimers, I'm French, young and inexperienced on that. There MUST be a lot of mistakes, forgive them and forgive me...


The dark elf stood up on the wide bed, scratching his bald head with a noisy yawn. He still slightly felt floating between the mists of Reverie and the hard angles of reality. Rubbing his eyes, he scolded this cursed sun which always hurt his sensitive pupils. These damned humans could not add curtains to their windows? Knocking his head back to kink charmingly his cervical, he noticed that the light did not come from the windows, but from small holes in the thatched roof. He had not noticed them before.

I was probably too busy to contemplate the ceiling... he thought with a smirk.

He stretched like a feline, then returned his legs against his powerful trunk. No, he did not want to get up at once, but on the contrary, to take advantage as long as possible of this pleasant torpor which bathed his whole being. However primal it can appear, a man felt really satisfied only after a whole night of shameless pleasures... He let a long and happy sigh escape. By the Black Webs of Lloth, what a night...!

"My my, Artemis, I was underestimating you."

"Ye 'ways are. Cou' ye jus' shaddup?"

"Have the extreme kindness to raise your head of the pillow, sir. I do not understand a word of what you say."

"I was trying to rest, damn drow! So shut the hell up and lemme sleep."

The murderer seizes one of the cushions and threw it on the elf, counting on his unmistakable capacities to reach his lovely target. Although he was sincerely hoping that the elven mercenary would satisfy his request, he knew pertinently that Jarlaxle would make nothing of such a pitiful threat. And that he was going to jump at the opportunity for chatting over and over. Damn drow.

Jarlaxle evaded the missile and smiled broadly.

"Such rudeness! I compliment you, and you, you show yourself horribly vulgar. I shall not speak either about the wounds you imposed me during the night... You even bit me!" he added, sounding horrified and inspecting his muscular arms.

"Would you like me to do it again?" Entreri whistled not without a certain amused cruelty.

Jarlaxle considered the question several seconds before answering it.

"Later, no doubts," he paused. "But you really hurt me... Would it be moreover too much to ask you to show of a bit of tenderness or sweetness?"

"These words don't belong to my vocabulary," the assassin snapped. "Now, please, Jarlaxle, please, keep silent, and let me rest."


"Was it enough polite for you?" he asked then without being waiting for an answer.

"Better! You see that you can make efforts, the road of the redemption is not so far away any more! I think seriously that you are not so different from Drizzt as you indeed want to believe it and..."

"Don't dig your grave already."

His grey eyes were flashing with anger.

"No, you decline!" The elf complained. "Dear abbil, I am completely confident for your future, soon we shall even be entitled to small affectionate nicknames! Your case is not desperate, Artemis. While I think of it, maybe you should have..."

Entreri made him keep silent.

No no, do not imagine that he planted his jewelled and cherished dagger into his heart. In spite of all his killing drives, the murderer indeed had to admit that he did not at once want to end his partnership with the dark elf.

He made him keep silent with a kiss. Violent, harsh, deep and staggering.
His calloused hand enticed brutally the drow against him, closer, whereas he squeezed the smooth black neck, possessive as ever.
Such an attitude set fire to Jarlaxle's loins. The mercenary moaned languishingly against the killer's lips, and remained docile. Another round like the ones they had the night before was of course welcome...

Suddenly, Entreri broke the kiss and he lengthened again on the ledger, sighing of ease. Morpheus's arms already glittered behind his closed eyelids.

His action had the merit to deprive Jarlaxle of word during approximately five minutes and thirty six seconds. A record. The drow blinked repeatedly before reconsidering the silhouette lain beside him, his crimson eyes shining in the darkness the sunlight had left.

"Oh Artemis, do tell me you aren't stopping there..."

"I am. Now shut up or Charon's Claw will find a new sheath of flesh. Of black flesh." Entreri muttered darkly.

"You're sadistic!"

"You love that, don't you? I remember you screaming me to strike you harder..."

"Wha...!You pervert! I won't talk to you any more!"


Triumphing but hiding his smirk, Entreri curved himself in the heat of sheets, particularly appreciating his victory against the impetuous and powerful mercenary. He did not feel Jarlaxle approaching, but he did feel his warm breath between his shoulder blades.

"Such projects would not be to displease me, dear Artemis, provided that they concern another sword," Jarlaxle whispered seductively.

Entreri sighed and frowned. He did not have any idea any more to avoid Jarlaxle's advances and babbles. And that annoyed him. Really.

"And I'm the pervert one?" he mumbled angrily. "Blast! SHUT UP!"

A third voice rose of the undone bed.

"Are you obliged to make so much noise early in the morning?"

Jarlaxle shouted with delight ; a nine-year-old girl would not have denied his enthusiasm. He trampled gaily the body of the murderer to join the other end of the bed and embraced the body of his new victim ardently. Although his spinal column protested strongly under the attack which had it been given, Entreri was silently pleased that the attention of the exuberant mercenary concerned another person than him. He did not even succeed in feeling pity for the new target of the blazing dark elf.

"Oh, sorry little drowling, we woke you. Are you hungry? Cold? Do you want me to do something?"

"Yes: stopping talking like that. You sound like my father."

"What is the problem with that, love?"

"We made love all night long, Jarl'. It's pretty disturbing." the other dark elf noticed slightly .

"A point for the hero," Entreri added with a new curse.

The ancient leader of Bregan D'aerthe caressed lovingly Drizzt Do'Urden's sides, biting his lower lip and casting lascivious glances on the human.

"Come come, Artemis Entreri, great one, come to taste the delights of the Underdark..." he whispered. "And I'm from far the spiciest !"

Drizzt roared. Entreri swore, suppressing partially the most exotic swearwords he knew. Finally, the killer stood up, pinching the bridge of his nose to gather his spirits. He eventually moved closer, like an hungry tiger, to the dark elves. He kissed his Nemesis languishingly, and with more tenderness and love than all those who knew the most worrying thieves of Calimport could imagine he would show. Oh, he had put an end to his hatred to the young drow but... it was another story.

Outraged, Jarlaxle squeezed his fists until his phalanxes go pale. How the murderer dared...! Then, suddenly, the mercenary realized that he was becoming jealous. In the name of all gods... Jealous!

Always repressing his derisive and very amused smile caused by the speechlessness of the elder drow, Artemis collected his clothes scattered on the dusty parquet and got dressed absently, buckling his dangerous weapons around his leather belt.

"Sorry, my darlings, but me, I am hungry. I shall take maybe a Do'Urden with honey for the dessert, though..."

He went out, letting both elves admire his magnificent fall of loins. Jarlaxle swore.

Drizzt raised a white and fine eyebrow.

"Have I missed anything?" he asked softly.

"Just some innocent and nice pillow-talk."

Thank you for reading... looks toward the review button

Should I write something else ? Should I correct one hundred and fifty of my mistakes?