"Hrm"
Jon's eyes fluttered open to stare up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He wasn't sure what he was quite dreaming about. Whatever it was, the last thing he remembered was the sound of a man's voice, deep and sonorous. Weirdly enough, it had sounded far more real than the rest of the forgotten dream. Almost as if it had come from right over--
Turning his head, Jon was alarmed to find there was a man standing in the middle of his bedroom. He cut a peculiar figure-- tall and broad, with bronze skin and a luxuriously groomed black beard. His features were handsome, his figure strapping beneath robes left open to show off quite a bit of his chiseled physique. His clothes, from the embroidered slippers adorning his feet to the silken turban wrapped about a golden crown, were singularly exquisite, and decidedly out of sorts with any manner of clothing from this century or continent. Most striking of all, however, were the man's eyes-- a piercing yellow color that sat beneath thick black brows and seemed to look through everything they turned their gaze on.
With a start, Jon realized the man was handsome. Not just handsome as he might recognize a famous actor was handsome, but rather in that Jon found him immediately and deeply attractive. Which was strange, because before today Jon was entirely confident that he was as straight as an arrow. But something about this man-- his muscular build, his imperious features, even the smoky scent that lingered in the air about him-- was turning Jon very on. Realizing this living Adonis, whoever he was, was standing in his bedroom, Jon's face flushed a deep crimson, while beneath his covers his boxers tented with his arousal.
The man, who had been staring quite intently at Jon's television with some perplexity, finally noticed Jon. "This land you have chosen is most peculiar, Jheerazade," he said, his voice as rich and deep as when Jon had first heard it. Oddly, he was decidedly not speaking English, or any other language Jon had heard before for that matter, and yet Jon could understand him perfectly.
Jon stammered for an answer, but the words caught in his throat. He had no idea who this man was or how he got here, though he suspected the stone might be involved. He certainly did not seem like any ordinary person, with clothes like that. Although, Jon found himself thinking with a flutter in his chest, a man like him could dress in a t shirt and cargo shorts and manage to look extraordinary. Damn, what was wrong with him?
Ignoring Jon's sputtering, the man crossed Jon's bedroom to stare out the window to the street below. The man's posture was rigid and precise, holding an inherent royalty in his very movements.Which would certainly fit the crown, Jon figured. Not to mention that jaw...
"This is certainly not where I would have expected to remake my domain," the man declared, in the language that was certainly not English. "Yes, a very strange place." His golden eyes found Jon again, sending a shiver down the young man's back and a fresh heat to his face. "And you have chosen a very strange form, enchantress. Disguised as one of the locals, I guess?"
Jon licked his lips, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. Who did this stranger think he was? He called Jon 'Jheerazade' earlier. Was that some sort of court magician of his? Despite the man's apparent unfamiliarity with this place, he did not seem surprised to be here, so he must think this was all part of some plan with this Jheerazade character. Jon should really correct him, but... but holy shit was he sexy! And the man mistaking Jon for someone he knew meant he was treating Jon with quite a bit of familiarity. Familiarity that Jon was enjoying immensely, to his own surprise.
Part of him knew this was the stone's work. Knew that this strange man and this overwhelming attraction that Jon felt were unnatural, the work of a wish gone awry. And yet as his eyes fell on where the stone rested on his bedside table, a plan began to rapidly form in his mind. One driven by passion and stitched together by desperate improvisation.
