I honestly do not know where this came from. I blame the new bottle
of shampoo I opened, because the actual idea came when I was
washing my hair. This has to be one of the strangest (not to mention
most bizarre) ideas I've ever had.

In advance, I most heartily apologise to everyone who's written a lovely
'Bran gets his memories back' sort of fic, especially when said memory
jogging occurs during the physical act of love. This is not meant to belittle
the idea--it's one of the sweetest storylines in TDIR fiction, and I love it
dearly--but for some reason it's become all twisted round in my head.
I humbly beg forgiveness.

So here's slash for you...done my way. Un-beta'ed and rated R for
far too much innuendo, nudity, moderate language, and one wicked,
wicked Will Stanton.

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Of Loving Bondage
By: Gramarye

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Everyone knows that loving bonds are the most powerful thing on earth.
Stronger than magic, deeper than Time, more potent than any substance
known to mortal or immortal, they are truly beyond compare.

In theory.

But as is the case of many theoretical ideas, they don't always work
out in practice. Take communism, for instance. Or peanut butter and
grape jelly mixed together in the same jar. Or blockbuster movie sequels.
All sound good in theory, but in practice they are another matter entirely.

Which may explain why Will Stanton, holding his lover in his arms as
they recovered from the shattering heights of climax, had come to the
sudden and fervent conclusion that in practice, loving bonds were a
pain in the arse.

"I...I remember, Will," Bran was saying, stammering his words as
he stared up at Will with frightened, loving eyes. "I remember
everything--about you, and me, and--"

And Will detached his hand from Bran's desperate grip, pushed his
damp brown hair out of his eyes, and quietly said:

"Shit."

Bran's rambling reminiscences came to a juddering halt. "W...Will?"

Will didn't seem to hear him.

"Just once," he said moodily, making an announcement to the room
at large as if someone was out there, listening to him. "Just one
bloody time I'd like to be able to enjoy myself without...." He
trailed off, then sighed and sat up in bed. "This isn't funny, you
know. Cosmic humour or not, it's not funny."

A very confused Bran made another bid for Will's attention.
"What...who are you talking to?"

Will glanced at Bran, and absently pointed the five fingers of his
right hand at his lover and said two quiet words in a language long
forgotten by men. Bran's eyes widened, then gently closed. His
entire body relaxed, slipping from Will's grasp to land on the bed,
fast asleep.

Detangling their various limbs and body parts took a moment, but
soon enough Will had arranged Bran on the bed and had pulled the
sheet up to cover his nudity. Only then did he return to his original
train of thought.

"You can show yourself now," he said aloud to the empty air. "Unless
you've a penchant for voyeurism that I don't know about."

Immediately, the towering figure of Merriman Lyon materialised at the
foot of Bran's bed. He almost seemed to fill the small bedroom with
his presence...a decidedly wrathful presence.

"What have you done, Will Stanton?" he boomed, the tone of his voice
demanding the absolute truth.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, or nervousness, or suppressed and pent-up
emotions, or the fact that he'd just had really great sex and consequently
didn't give a damn what happened to him. But whatever the reason, Will
didn't hang his head in shame. Instead, he propped himself up on his
elbows and glared at Merriman with all the anger he could muster.

"What have I done?" he snapped. "What have I done? I certainly never
asked for him to get his memories back! In fact, it makes my life a hell
of a lot more complicated, and having you looming over me, looking
like you wished that sodomy was still a hanging crime in this country--
which it's not, so don't go getting any ideas--doesn't do much to
UNCOMPLICATE things!"

Merriman remained unmoved by the sudden outburst. "Will, it's the
fourth time it's happened this week."

Will fell back onto the pillows, his anger spent.

"Hell," he said wearily.

Merriman's mouth twitched. "As you say."

"Oh, don't give me that," Will snarled.

His master raised a bushy white eyebrow. "In case you've forgotten,
Old One, your powers are only to be used in times of great need."

Will looked over at Bran, who was just barely covered by the thin
white sheet draped over his nether regions, and licked his lips. "Define
'great need'."

"Will!"

"As long as you're standing there, would you hand me my shorts,
please?" When Merriman didn't move, he shrugged and rolled over,
reaching for the discarded pile of clothing at the side of the bed.
"And anyway, you're hardly one to lecture ME about mucking
with the memories of mortals."

Merriman bristled, averting his eyes. "That was uncalled for."

"Was it, then." Will was thoroughly enjoying himself by now. There was
a good chance that he'd never have Merriman at such a disadvantage
again. He stood up and began to pull his underclothes on, very slowly.

"Yes, it was."

Will smirked. "So you say. But did it ever occur to you that showing
up at Simon Drew's graduation party might have been, shall we say,
a mistake?"

"I hardly think," the older man replied with great dignity, "that it is my
fault that Ellen Drew does not update her address book on a regular
basis."

"So you decided to pop round to the party and say hello and present
Simon with a nice congratulatory cheque--not remembering that you
were supposed to have died seven years ago?"

Merriman said nothing, but even in the darkness of the room he
seemed to blench.

Will's smirk grew broader, and he folded his arms across his bare
chest. "Exactly my point."

The older man's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Don't you dare
attempt to make this whole fiasco of yours out to be MY fault, boy."

"Oh, I would never dream of doing such a thing, my master." He liked
the way that had rolled off his tongue. Bran would have thought it
deliciously seductive, had he been conscious. "Though you might be
happy to hear that Jane's doing quite well in therapy. They may even
let her have visitors by the end of the month."

Merriman uttered a rather vituperative curse in the Old Speech.

"Temper, temper." Encouraged by the reactions he was getting, wanton
playfulness or sheer recklessness made him say what he said next. "You
know what? I think you're jealous."

"WHAT?!" Merriman exploded. A wooden chair in the corner burst
into flames.

"Eternal rest not all it's cracked up to be, eh?" Will waved a hand at
the burning chair, putting out the flames. He could repair it later: no
sense wasting a priceless chance. "Have to go round spying on other
people having it off?"

Merriman made an incoherent spluttering noise, and Will kept going,
wondering exactly how far he could push his luck.

"Though what you and milord Arthur do in your spare time is fortunately
none of my business." He grimaced theatrically. "It's practically incestuous,
depending on who you read. Malory, for all his twaddle, makes some
pretty interesting insinua--"

"I am not going to listen to this." The deep voice was frigid, stilted with
rage. He pulled his dark cloak closer about him, drawing himself up to
his full, towering height. "We will talk about this later, Will Stanton."

Will allowed himself to smile, and replied in a throaty, deferential whisper,
"As you wish...my master."

Merriman shivered in spite of himself. With a final glare at Will that
likely would have killed a mortal man, he vanished.

Will pursed his lips thoughtfully. That had gone rather well, in his opinion.

Oh, he knew that there would be hell to pay soon enough, but his
immediate attention was drawn back to the man sprawled on the bed.
He had started to stir. Bran was waking up.

Padding back to the bed, Will leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss
across his lover's forehead.

"Mm...." Bran opened his eyes, and looked up blearily. "Will?"

"Have a nice sleep?"

"Did I fall asleep?" He pawed at his face, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

Bran squinted, as if he was trying to remember something. "Had the
weirdest dream."

Will tensed. "What was it about?"

"It was...." He shook his head abruptly. "Urgh, it's all muzzy. Must've
been a stupid dream."

"Dreams usually are," Will commented lazily. "Except for that one
about the jar of chocolate sauce and the digestive biscuits--that one
wasn't so stupid."

Bran chuckled. "It left a mess, though."

"Chocolate and crumbs, all over the nice clean sheets." Will caressed
the other boy's face fondly, eliciting a hiss of pleasure. "Just listen to
you, wittering away. Let's try to sleep some more while it's still dark
out."

"Right." Bran seemed only too glad to roll over and snuggle down
beneath the bedclothes. "Love you."

Will slid in beside him, resting his chin against the warm hollow of
Bran's collarbone. "Love you, too."

Loving bonds.

Powerful, eternal, and completely expendable.

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Gramarye
gramarye@postmaster.co.uk
http://gramarye.freehosting.net/
July 30th, 2002