Disclaimers:  Not mine, just playing, I promise nobody gets hurt.  Original characters and story  are mine, however, and cannot be used/printed/posted without permission.  Thanks.
Rating: Rated R.  Adult audiences only.
Content: Romance, sexual situations, both m/f and m/m.  If you are uncomfortable with sex in general or "slash" in particular, leave now.
Spoilers:  The Essence, Twisted Truth, Flawed Victory, In Kold Blood, and Melina ep.

Summer
-- a sequel to "Dreams" --

© 1999, Grace Macy

Part One

It was hot.  Summer had transformed into an inferno, draught threatening to set in with this first wave of intense heat.  There hadn't been a summer like this in decades; Kung Lao would have remembered if there had.  Kung Lao did not like it this hot.

No one liked it this hot, Rayden had answered last night, when the young monk first complained of the heat-wave that had arrived so suddenly.  But, Rayden continued blithely, at least gods couldn't feel it.  Immortal warriors for the side of Earth Realm, unfortunately, could.  Being the Champion of Mortal Kombat didn't stop the young man from being every bit as hot, sticky, and utterly uncomfortable as his non-immortal house-mates, Siro and Taja, or anyone else in town.

Tempers were high, prices were worse, and the three current defenders of Earth Realm had decided that the best course of action would be to take the day off.  Most of the town seemed to feel the same, and the rivers and ponds were crowded with people seeking a break from the incessant heat before said spots of comfort dried up.  Siro, however, had discovered a small, hidden spot half a league away from town while hunting some time back, so the three had gratefully headed towards that meager oasis.

None of them were in their otherwise customary outfits, having abandoned the constricting -- not to mention hot -- pieces of mostly leather for much lighter clothing.  Taja, as Siro had teased incessantly (once he got his tongue back in his mouth and actually working again, albeit before Taja had a chance to notice), was wearing a dress for the first time since he'd known her.  It was a one-piece flowing piece of fabric that floated about her, covering up flesh that Siro had seen a number of times and yet never found as disconcertingly alluring as he did now, unable to see any of it.  Every time she moved, the fabric slid along her legs, offering only occasional flashes of alabaster skin, leaving Siro's pants feeling distinctly uncomfortable -- much to his confusion and chagrin.

For his own part, Siro was attracting just as much attention, but Taja was used to it.  The man could be irritating as hell at times, but there was absolutely no denying he was attractive.  Especially after that damned Quan Chi and one of his assassins/bedmates had �borrowed' their forms for that one night, and left Kung Lao -- and consequently Siro and Taja, when he related it to them -- with mind-images that would probably take a  very long time to exorcise.  Not that this heat wave was helping.  He was wearing one of those loose, billowy shirts of his, tucked into a pair of loose pants, and the contrast between the white of the shirt and his tanned skin was damned distracting.

Taja sighed, looking from one traveling companion to the other as they trekked through the woods to the hidden pool Siro had promised.  As if Siro wasn't bad enough, Kung Lao was looking every bit as lovely.  Equally loose shirt and pants, in equally pale colors that set off his bronzed skin gloriously. . .  The episode with Quan Chi aside, there had been the time Kung Lao was injured and the task of caring for him had fallen to Taja, while Siro hunted the attacker.  The true assassin, Melina, had turned out to be masquerading as Kitana, who showed up ostensibly to help Kung Lao heal.  Taja, looking back, doubted that the  added attention Melina gave the young monk was solely part of her cover; she also had to admit that the lookalike's accusation of jealousy being the motive behind Taja's protests at their . . . exertions . . . was at least partially true.

Kung Lao was one of the few people Taja trusted, one of the few  men she trusted.  Add to that fact his physical, as well as emotional, attractiveness, and the truth came out to be that while Taja may not have really ever considered a romantic entanglement with her friend, she had envied "Kitana" the look in his eyes that morning, the tone of his voice as he murmured the woman's name.  She wanted to hear someone say her name like that, touch her as he must have touched her before the effects of her poisoned oils took hold, kiss her and . . .

Taja shook her head, glad she was walking  behind them, and not just for the view it afforded.  The only thing missing now that her long-denied libido needed (read:  didn't need) would be to have Rayden show up wearing something scant and finally revealing just what  was under that heavy tunic he habitually wore.  The image that instantly sprung up at that thought, involving all three attractive men, sent a delicious shiver up her spine and a hastily restrained curse to her tongue.  It had definitely been far too long since a man had shared her bed, and this was  not a good thing.  At least, not when there wasn't a chance in Outworld of anything ever coming of it.  Not that she would mind if it did . . .

Taja smiled a little, watching her companions' backs quite happily for a moment.  No, I definitely would not mind.

She would have been greatly surprised to know that not only Siro, but Kung Lao as well, were thinking pretty much the same thing about her, if not each other.  On Siro's side was a reckless, wild kind of sexuality that came into play with pretty much any lovely lady he saw, even if it wasn't acted on.  For Kung Lao, however, there was more than just a suppressed passion -- there was a need and desire for the multi-leveled intimacy that sex brought.

With Jen, it had been the binding to an already deep love; with "Kitana" (who in truth had been Melina, although Siro's comment about his assumed prowess being partly responsible for keeping him alive one more night had assuaged his ego about that) it had been pure desire, long-denied and mixed evenly with delirium and the sense of a kindred-spirit.  With Taja, it would be . . . Kung Lao considered carefully.  With Taja, he decided finally, it would be much the same as it had been with "Kitana."  Two kindred-souls giving one another pleasure and comfort, company in body and spirit.

Images filled his mind, some left over from the morning he had interrupted "Siro" and "Taja," some created all on his own.  Taja in candlelight, moonlight, on silken sheets, on soft grass, writhing underneath him, lifting her head to kiss him in supplication and need . . .  Siro and Taja, the way they had looked that morning, when Quan Chi and his bedmate had been masquerading as the two warriors.  Skin against skin, long, slow, idle caresses.  Soft bronze skin against alabaster-pale, the smooth line of her back and the curve of his shoulder . . .

Kung Lao gave himself a mental shake.  Not that that's ever going to happen.  We're friends, nothing more -- all of us.  And even if that weren't the case . . .  That thought led to those images again, and Kung Lao resolutely concentrated on the woodland path instead.

Siro, whose thoughts had been going in somewhat the same direction, but centering more on the female of their little group, interrupted all their musings with his announcement.  "I think we're there.  It should be just over this rise."

His voice trailed off as they crested the hill-top.  Kung Lao and Taja, coming to a stop beside him, were equally breathless.  It had nothing to do with their walk or the heat: the view before them was breath-taking.  The pond filled most of the small valley, the water coming down from several small waterfalls and leaving the same way at the other end of the scoop of land.  Emerald-hued trees and mica-lined outcroppings of rock surrounded the natural open-air grotto, the breeze carrying the fresh scent of the leaves and flowers as well as bird-song.

"Oh," Taja sighed.  "It's  beautiful, Siro. . ."

Kung Lao nodded in agreement.  "I can't believe I never knew this place was here."

Siro nodded.  "Me neither.  I almost missed it the first time. . .  Hunh."

Taja frowned and looked up at him.  "What?"

Siro looked at her, dragged his gaze away from the way the dress fitted across her breasts, the shimmer of perspiration on her skin, and answered.  "Ah . . . It's just that I didn't remember it taking this long to get to it.  I don't know, I just -- I feel like we should have gotten here earlier than this.  It's almost noon already."

Kung Lao frowned, then shrugged.  "Mid-day and the heat's the strongest.  I'd say we had perfect timing.  Any longer and we'd have had to head home or risk heat exhaustion."

Taja chuckled and pulled unselfconsciously at the bodice of her dress.  "Almost there anyway," she muttered.  She didn't notice the looks both Siro and Kung Lao cast at the lifted fabric, or the twin curves of skin it revealed.

Suddenly feeling even more flushed, Kung Lao suggested that they quicken their pace and reach the water faster.  His companions agreed, both for the same reasons as Kung Lao, although neither would have admitted it to anyone but themselves: the heat in their bodies wasn't solely from the hot summer sun.  The closer they got to the pond, the cooler the air seemed, the breeze seeming to pick up the temperature of the water and carry it to the three visitors.  The birds hushed for a moment at the unaccustomed intrusion, then continued their songs in welcome.  The scene was far too idyllic for either wildlife or humans to mind the presence of one another.

In a few minutes, the three were joyfully dipping their hands and bared feet into the water, delighting in the blessed chill and the contrast of the strong sun still beating down.  Taja placed the wine-skin and the bag of fruit they had brought into the shallow end of the pond, letting the water cool them to a more comfortable temperature.  Siro continued the preparations by checking the waters for fish and turtles -- not so much for food as to make sure they wouldn't, as he put it, be nipped while they dipped.  Kung Lao, after spreading out the thin blanket they had brought along, lay back with a deep sigh.  For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly at ease.

Content.  He considered the word and slowly smiled.  Yes, he confirmed:  content.  For now, just now, I can pretend that everything's all right.  That there is no Mortal Kombat.  That I'm a man like any other, enjoying the day and pond with my friends.

When Taja and Siro joined the Champion at the blanket, they found he had already drifted off into sleep.  The two exchanged a look and smiled, then went back to the edge of the pond, careful not to make any noise that might wake Kung Lao.  The gods only knew (literally), Taja thought, that of them all, Kung Lao needed and deserved his rest.  She'd heard him wake from nightmares on occasion at the trading post, never knowing how to comfort him or even approach him later.  Of them all, Kung Lao had lost the most, and stood to lose ever more as the years went by and his newfound immortality began to wear on him.  Let him sleep for now.

Continued

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