JC/Lance

infect; magic

JC tries again. It's so important to get every little detail right, or it won't work.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, grounds himself through his bare feet on the stone floor. It's not even cold anymore. Just a sensation of pulling, of balancing a weight through his body. Then he sings the opening cadences, inflection and pitch correct. He knows they are, because his scalp tingles with them, making every hair stand up.

The second part of it, the lifting part, begins, and JC raises his arms slowly, feeling the air swirl around him, and the invisible taut cord of it as he sings, the same series of syllables again and again. He can almost see it behind his eyelids, the way it reaches down into the depths of the earth, pulling the energy up, and he takes measured breaths to keep the rhythm steady, the chant unceasing, until the strain of it makes his arms ache and his body flush with hot fire.

Finally, a shape begins to coalesce, in deeper shades of orange in his mind, something with claws and feathers, and JC knows that this is it; this is what he needs. He begins to spread his arms wide, to let the shape form more clearly between them, the fire right in his face, and his voice cracks on one note.

A cold shot of panic runs through him, almost numbing him. Then he keeps singing, keeps pulling. This far along, he has to let the power out somehow. It might still work. It would mean disaster to stop.

The fire taking form between his arms becomes clearer, and JC is tempted to open his eyes and look at it, but only for a moment. He has to keep the chanting up, his concentration focused. The image in his mind expands, the claws retracting and the feathers smoothing, until the shape is almost man-like, orange, with pale green flames flickering around the edges. JC pulls until the heat in his face and the burning pain in his arms are screaming at him to stop, until there is nothing left to recover.

After a deep breath, he shouts the closing five words, at the top of his voice, and then lets his arms drop.

The sudden absence of current and heat makes him stumble, and there is no balanced weight there to keep him sure-footed. In spite of everything, he manages not to fall. He stands, still and panting for a moment, conscious of the sweat itching on his face but too weary to do anything about it. Then he opens his eyes.

There is a man, or something close to a man, in the circle in front of him. He is crouching, and naked, and in the torchlight his skin shines golden. JC experiences a moment of disorientation. He had expected something more like an animal - not this creature with smooth skin over firm muscle, so obviously male.

Then the being in the circle tilts his head up, and opens his eyes, and JC understands where the green fire went. That unblinking stare from under a mess of dark blond hair touches something within him, and JC takes an involuntary step forward, almost to the edge of the circle before he stops himself. Then he blinks and freezes, lifting his shaking hands to do a warding sign, just in case.

Before he can move, the man in the circle stands up smoothly, and JC stares as he unfurls and stretches, the corner of his mouth moving into a lazy half-smile. While JC stands there unmoving, the being walks the few steps to stand right in front of him, right at the edge of the circle, unconcerned in his nudity.

"Come inside," he says, his voice a lazy, dark drawl, and JC feels inexplicably drawn to look at his mouth, at the way the tip of his tongue moves back and forth, caressing his upper lip. It glistens wetly, and JC's thoughts are suddenly filled with dark red wetness and stabs of ecstatic pain.

He steps forward, numbly, and watches the man's smile get wider, his eyes above shining green like a jungle snake shimmering in the sun. JC draws a shaking breath and takes the step across the edge of the circle, swaying into the gold and green heat.

His mouth is a ripe shiny fruit. His lips part, and there is a glimpse of whitewhite teeth.