A/N: If you hadn't realized, this penname is plural for a reason. This is a collaborate account between two different authors who thought it might be fun to delve into these types of stories. While the other two stories under this account were written separately, one by each of us, we thought it would be entertaining to see how a collaboration might work. We wrote it, in the beginning, 100 words at a time, giggling as we passed the story back and forth to one another Towards the end we were too wrapped up in it and sent larger bits of writing at a time, but overall, we're both pleased with the effect of our combined writing. As it were, this was intended to be a simple one-shot. It has now turned into a planned series of one shots spanning across the time that Valentine and Lucian spend as young parabatai in Idris. We hope you'll enjoy it!

Chapter One

In the Beginning

Idris was a land for rules. The Shadowhunters learned early and well exactly what was acceptable and what was not. Lucian looked into the lust-darkened eyes of his parabatai and knew, unquestionably, which column this fell under. The quickening of breath when Valentine's hand brushed his own, the molten heat that rushed through his veins at the simplest kiss, his insuppressible reaction when their bodies crushed together; all of these things were an abhorrence to the Clave. Wrong. Evil. Inexcusable.

Lucian had tried to deny his feelings, even to himself. But when Valentine showed up in his room that night there was little hope of controlling them, much less denying them. It had been raining all evening; a cold, unrelenting pounding that almost proved to be soothing for him after the stress of a long day. He sat alone in the dark, a half-empty glass of something else evil and inexcusable in his hand, when he heard the knock. Two short raps and then silence.

Lucian set his glass down and made his way to the door. He opened it just a crack and pulled in a short gasp. His visitor's hair was wet and stuck in clumps to his face. Even the water and lack of light could barely darken it a shade past its natural white color. Lucian had often thought it the color of the pure heaven the boy spoke of. The look in Valentine's eyes as he stepped silently and lithely into the room spoke of a different kind of heaven altogether: one significantly less pure, but no less blissful. No, Lucian shook the thought away. Valentine didn't feel the same about him, he couldn't. They'd never discussed it, but Lucian felt sure his friend knew exactly how he felt. Concealment was not one of his talents. If Valentine felt the same, he would have acted on it already.

He stepped back to let the other boy enter and then quietly shut the door behind him, reaffirming the darkness of the room. When Valentine passed through the dim beam of light, sneaking in through the curtain from the streetlamp outside, Lucian couldn't help but notice the wet clothing clinging to Valentine's defined body. Valentine He stopped once he'd reached the other side of the room, but didn't turn. He just stood there, head bowed slightly and hands hanging limply at his sides. Lucian watched as the other boy's shoulders rose and fell with an increasingly irregular rhythm, as if he were losing control. But that was impossible. The one thing Lucian knew—the thing everyone knew—was that Valentine Morgenstern didn't lose control. Not ever. He considered a dozen equally ridiculous thoughts before parting his lips and voicing the most obvious of them all.

"You're wet."

As if his asinine statement chained whatever idiosyncrasy that was causing Valentine's erratic behavior, the white haired boy smirked knowingly.

"Your powers of deduction are truly unrivaled, Lucian." His words were cold, but his face was not. His eyes held not warmth, not affection or compassion, but searing heat.

"I just meant you should get out of those wet clothes."

Valentine raised one perfect eyebrow and his smirk grew more pronounced.

"I mean—" Lucian paused, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his head. "I meant to ask if you'd like something dry to wear." He opened his eyes again and found the other boy in the process of pulling his wet shirt over his head. His skin seemed to glow in the dimness; the droplets that still clung to him caught the light and shone.

"I'm not here for your clothes." Valentine spoke barely above a whisper.

"Oh?" Lucian gulped. "Then what—" the question died on his lips, replaced by an involuntary hiss. Valentine's long, slim fingers had moved from where they'd been brushing his wet hair back. They wandered now—slowly and deliberately—down the hard defined lines of his torso, resting finally where his pants met the bare flesh of his stomach. He hooked his thumbs inside the fabric and met Lucian's gaze, holding it, while he began to undo the fastenings.

"What…" the dark haired boy tried and failed again to ask, defeated, this time, by his own body's sudden forward movement. Without intending for them to, his legs were carrying him over to where the other boy stood. He stopped abruptly only inches from his friend. With effort, he broke the hold the other boy's eyes had on his and looked down to the place where Valentine's fingers had paused. He drew in a deep breath and looked up again.

Valentine's hair had fallen back down over his face, and as he flicked his head to the side to move it, the scent that filled Lucian's senses was enough to drug him. The smell coming off the other boy was like nothing else on the planet. It was Valentine, base and absolute. The aroma was so familiar to Lucian from all the time they'd spent in close proximity training and studying together. The scent had nearly driven him mad every single time the other boy got close. Close. But never close enough. Never like this. Never like now.

Without pausing to question the sanity of such a movement, Lucian lowered his face down to the boy's exposed neck and ran his nose softly along the visible vein, drinking in the texture of his scent before pressing his lips to the pulse point beating wildly under his skin. He felt Valentine's heart rate increase under his lips, somehow matching the disjointed rhythm now pounding in his own chest.

Valentine pulled in a deep breath, and Lucian suddenly sobered. He made to pull back, to step away from the other boy while he still had the ability; but he couldn't. There was a hand on the back of his head, holding him there. Lucian hesitated for only a fraction of a second before pressing his lips to Valentine's throat once again, with more purpose this time. Tasting. Teasing. Testing.

The boy moaned, and the vibration of it reverberated on Lucian's lips, down his spine; an electric sizzle that set his every nerve on expectant edge. That sensation—the jarring realness of it—convinced him at last that this was not just another dream. No simple nocturnal fantasy created by his subconscious. This? This was real. Lucian raised his hands to touch bare skin.

The taste of Valentine on his lips and the feel of muscled flesh beneath his stroking fingertips was more potent—more intoxicating and debilitating—than the glass of wine that sat forgotten on the table. Lucian ran his lips up the other boy's neck, not kissing but not breaking contact. When he got to the juncture where Valentine's throat started to curve up into his jaw, Lucian let his tongue dart out to taste the skin there, and then up along the smooth curve of his parabatai's ear.

He paused there, "This is real." he breathed.

Valentine's only response was to tighten the fingers in his parabatai's hair. Lucian bit down lightly on Valentine's earlobe, and quickly, so quickly it was almost disorienting, he was being kissed. That was when conscious thought ceased for Lucian, melting away to make room for sensation. He gasped as Valentine's hands tangled hard in his hair and his tongue darted out, seeking entrance between his sensitive lips. Lucian moaned and opened himself to the other boy, having never been able to deny him in anything, and having no desire to do so now. He felt, rather than saw, the edges of Valentine's lips curve into a smile where they pressed against his own. Even in this he was his same confident, cocky self. Lucian suppressed his own grin and lowered his hands down to the unfastened waistline of the other boy's pants. He slid his fingers past the edge slowly, stopping only when the tightness of the wet fabric wouldn't allow him to go any farther than knuckle deep. Lucian let his fingers slip their way around Valentine's hips until they rested palms down and fingers hidden on the small of his back.

Lucian attempted to pull Valentine to him then, needing to close the space between them. But Valentine's hands untangled from his hair and quickly reached around his own back, grabbing Lucian's wrists and pulling them away.

Lucian pulled back from the kiss to stare questioningly into black eyes. "I, uh—" he struggled to find the words to apologize. But really, what could he say to make up for such a grievous error? Valentine didn't want this, of course he didn't, but Lucian allowed his own wants and desires to blind him from the most obvious of truths. The boy stood there and watched him from inches away as the full weight of what he'd done registered. Had he just lost his best friend with one stupid action? "Valentine?" he managed the word, though it was little more than a whimper.

Valentine's eyes danced, laced with amusement and desire. Slowly, he turned his head from one side to the other and then back again. He dropped Lucian's hands at his sides and his own fingertips went to the small sliver of skin showing between the hem of his shirt and the top of his pants. He ghosted his fingertips along the dips and ridges in that tiny open space, watching Lucian's face for reaction the whole time. Lucian closed his eyes and couldn't stop the groan that escaped him. The emotional rise and fall was like being in battle. Exhilaration mixed with fear, layered with a tint of the surreal. Every sensation acutely heightened, and every second lingered on in the ether. Like a dream, but with the vibrancy owned only by the most real of experiences.

Low whispered words broke his unexpected reverie. "What are you thinking of, Lucian? Your eyes are far away."

Lucian shook his head slowly. "No…just…surprised." He could barely form the words around the tiny gasps and shivers that were coming involuntarily each time Valentine trailed fingers back and forth across the bare flesh below his navel. "Please don't stop...just—don't stop."

"Oh, I have no intention of stopping." Valentine leaned back in, pulling Lucian's top lip between his own while his hands moved up, taking his shirt with them. Lucian gave in completely, lifting his arms over his head and letting the other boy pull up and over. When it was gone, when they were equals, Valentine pulled him closer. The shock of cold skin against his own overheated chest made Lucian gasp against Valentine's kiss. Valentine used the opportunity to deepen it, and Lucian couldn't stop his hands from moving back down to where they'd been before, to the soft sloping skin where lower back met upper ass. He slid his fingertips beneath the wet fabric, holding Valentine firmly in place, and bucked his own hips against the other boy. Valentine made a small, guttural noise and dropped his head back, breaking the kiss, but increasing the pressure where their bodies melded together. When he looked back up, Lucian noted that though his lips were swollen from the kissing, they held not nearly enough color.

"You're cold," Lucian half stated, half asked, and Valentine nodded.

"Then we need to get these wet pants off." Without removing his hands or breaking eye contact, Lucian began walking forward, slowly pushing Valentine backwards toward his bedroom. When he reached the closed door he pushed the other boy against it and leaned in, exhaling a long overheated breath on Valentine's neck. He ran his nose in a line up his neck to his ear.

"Warmer?" He whispered before looking up to find Valentine's head resting back against the door, eyes closed tight and his bottom lip drawn in between his teeth. Valentine reached around, grabbed Lucian's backside and pushed himself against the other boy. Lucian withdrew a hand from the damp skin of Valentines back and reached for the doorknob. He was distantly amused to note that his hands were trembling, harder even than Valentine's, who at least had the excuse of the still soaked pants.

The door swung open with a click, and the boys stumbled in, their Shadowhunter reflexes the only thing that saved them from crashing to the floor. Valentine pulled back from the kiss with a grin and nodded his head towards the glass fire bowl in the corner of the room. "You start the fire."

Lucian pulled away from him and grabbed the stele from where it rested on his dresser. Instead of walking over to the fireplace like he'd been told, he stalked back to where Valentine stood watching him. "First, warmth." He sketched over a faded rune just above the other boy's hipbone, smiling when the action drew a gasp, and then turned without a word to light the fire.

It took him longer than he would have liked to draw the rune on the glass that brought the fire. This had always been his weakness; using the runes on inanimate objects was almost impossible compared to Marking himself or Valentine. By the time he got it right and turned back to where Valentine had been standing, the boy was gone. His heart fell low and heavy into his chest as he searched the room, not finding him. At last a flicker of white movement caught his eye and he turned again to find that wet clothing was no longer a danger to the boy. Valentine lay naked on Lucian's own bed.

The world stopped, and with it Lucian's breath and heart. The stele fell from his hand and crashed to the floor with an echoing ring, but Lucian didn't hear it. He swallowed hard and attempted to keep his chest from heaving as he tried to draw in enough oxygen to keep himself from passing out.

"Are you just going to stand there with your mouth open, or were you no longer interested in—" Valentine started.

"Val—I, I'm..." Lucian found he couldn't get the words to come out the way he wanted to, so he stopped speaking, and took action. He started toward the bed, his hands going to the button of his own pants. His fingers were shaking too much for him to make much progress. As he approached, Valentine sat up and reached for Lucian's hands.

"Let me." He said, and Lucian noticed his voice had changed...it had a new tone to it—husky, and layered with what could only be described as lust. Lucian let him, raising his hands and resting them on Valentine's shoulders.

Valentine made quick work of Lucian's pants. As soon as he felt them slide down his legs, he stepped out of them. He didn't know what to do next. His mind and body battled against one another, both screaming demands at him. His hands tightened on Valentine's shoulders, fingernails drawing angry red lines in the flesh.

His thoughts dissolved when Valentine leaned forward and pressed his hot lips to the now oversensitive skin just below his navel. Lucian felt all of the muscles in his stomach contract and then refuse to release. Valentine took his time exploring the area across Lucian's abdomen. He alternated between using his soft lips and wet tongue, tracing lines across Lucian's Marks that burned hotter than any stele ever could. All Lucian could do was hold on and pray that his trembling knees wouldn't fail him.

"By...the, Angel—" Lucian choked out when Valentines searing lips moved even lower, dangerously low. "Going…to…fall." He barely managed to get out between ragged breaths and strangled cries. Valentine chuckled against his skin, a sound that was more want than humor, and grabbed Lucian around the hips with splayed hands. The white-haired Shadowhunter leaned back and pulled the other boy hard, until Lucian was lying beside him on the bed, not entirely sure how he arrived there. They lay on their sides facing each other, nearly a foot of distance between their bodies. Lucian hated the separation, but loved the chance to drink in Valentine's form with his eyes.

The flickering firelight made the darkened runes and the old scars seem to dance on Valentine's skin, as if they too were celebrating this moment. Lucian had never believed this possible, never suspected that Valentine wanted these things as badly as he did. But with their bodies bare and exposed, there was no denying how much they both wanted it. Their bodies spoke truth where, for so many months, their mouths had not. Valentine reached forward and cupped Lucian's face with a warm palm, just holding it there for a moment and keeping their gazes locked. Fire, both reflected from the fire bowl and born of strong emotion, burned in Valentine's eyes as he slid his hand down.

Lucian felt fingertips trace lightly down his neck, his chest, across the quivering expanse of his stomach and then further down. He closed his eyes in anticipation and Valentine's hand stilled.

"Lucian," he choked, barely recognizable. "Look at me." Lucian opened his eyes and met the boy's black-eyed gaze. Then Valentine lowered his hand once more and grasped him. Heat and victory and primal desire flared inside Lucian, the fruition of so many months of wanting and needing culminating in a single touch and held gaze.

"Ung." Lucian couldn't articulate anything more. When Valentine drew his long fingers first up and then back down slow enough that it could almost be considered torturous, Lucian could no longer hold his eyes open. He let them fall shut and arched himself into the other boy's grasp.

He needed more contact; one spot wasn't enough—if every part of him were touching every part of Valentine it still wouldn't be enough. He forced his eyes to open and found himself being studied. Valentines eyes flickered across his face, pausing for a moment at each feature—just long enough to cast it to memory—and then moving on. Lucian found himself a bit embarrassed at his inability to control his own breathing, and was suddenly self-conscious, lying there, being touched so intimately, while his own hands lay useless. Valentine's attention was all he could think about; he struggled to remember how to make his hands move.

Valentine stopped. "What's wrong?" He pulled his hand away and Lucian immediately felt the loss. Valentine brought his hand up and laid it on his cheek once more. "I thought...this?"

Lucian nodded his head slowly.

"Yes?" Valentine questioned.

Lucian struggled to find his voice. "Yes," he gasped and finally reached out for the other boy. He crushed his lips against Valentine's as their bodies met...nothing between. No more clothes. No more space. No more hesitancy.

These kisses were different from the others they had shared. Valentine's lips and tongue were demanding and Lucian was more than willing to submit. He played off the little noises he could pull from Valentine, challenging himself to draw more of them. His hands no longer laid still, they twined in the boys light hair and traced hard patterns over his shoulders and down his arms. He slid them lower until he clutched the muscular swells of Valentine's ass, and then he pulled, grinding their bodies together hard and sucking a growl from the other boy's throat. The sound mixed with the sensation made Lucian tremble all over.

They went on like that—tasting and touching and pressing together—for an indefinable moment. Lucian didn't know if it was seconds or even hours later that Valentine pulled back, moving swollen lips to his throat. He kissed a slow line up to Lucian's ear, then whispered, caressing him with words rather than touches. "Your lips taste like wine, but your neck tastes like salt." He drew the earlobe between his teeth and worried it, causing Lucian to buck up against him. "I can't help but wonder at the flavor of the rest of you."

That sobered Lucian, and he stilled beneath the other boy. He felt the vibration of Valentine's laugh as he ghosted lips and grazed teeth slowly down his neck. Lucian allowed his weight to sink into the pillow, screaming internally at himself to relax, yet completely unable to unclench his muscles. Valentine must have been aware of how tense he'd suddenly become, because he spoke against his chest. "Don't worry. I won't bite," before he pulled the sensitive skin of his nipple into his mouth and bit down. Lucian jerked on the bed and fisted his hands tightly at his side. "I won't bite hard, at least." Valentine chuckled, and repeated the motion, drawing nearly the exact same response as before.

Vaguely, Lucian registered that Valentine's hands were gone, that the other boy was sliding down his body, shifting his weight at odd angles. Surely he hadn't meant…but he was never to finish the thought, because one hand had suddenly slid beneath him on the bed, clutching his thigh tightly, and another hand was back, wrapped around the physical proof of his excitement. There was a moment of shock before that, along with the capacity to do anything but feel, was wiped away by the feel of the other boy's warm, perfect mouth surrounding him.