AnK - Black Moon Rising

Black Moon Rising

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko

Edited by: Ainzfern

Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze

Rating: Mature – NC -17ish

Parts: WIP – 11 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"Extreme pleasure governs life and death."

Chapter 11 of 25 – The Pleasure Principle (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~


Vermillion?

Crimson?

Red just wouldn’t cut it by definition.

He had yet to find the descriptive hue that would best define the singularity of its beauty. A splendor made more so by the austere surroundings of his office. It’s only companion atop the imposing desk, a keyboard of steel gray and sharp, cold lines in keeping with the general decor.

So that had been the morning gift, instead of food. Katze’s gaze softened markedly taking in the slender, elegant neck of its stem as it bowed under the weight of the soft and plentiful petals.

Kato really had far too much time on his hands, Katze told himself, while the pad of a single digit tentatively caressed the misted velvet of the flower’s opulent display.

Beautiful.

There it was, that apologetic knock, requesting entry into the inner sanctum; permission, as always, was granted.

“Damn, this one must have cost me a small fortune, Kato. Your tastes are getting expensive in your dotage.” Katze murmured.

Momentary distraction put aside Katze began tapping the keyboard and a blue-gray plume of light quietly forming an oblong holographic screen. Numbers began scrolling rapidly above the keypad with each sharp tap of long elegant fingers on steel gray keys.

“The color of passion and beauty, Master Katze, it is beyond price.”

There was smugness in the retort as a fresh mug of steaming hot coffee was poured and an ashtray appeared as if by magic within easy reach along with its future occupants with an equally elegant flourish of an arthritic wrist.

Pale lips lifted in a sardonic half smile, eyes never leaving the display, but fully aware of the courtesies being bestowed.

Two couriers were late with their pricey cargo, the piece de resistance of the entire private showing tomorrow.

“The color of hate, Mister Spendthrift and everything has a price, never forget that.”

“Ahhh, but never the color of indifference, Mister Katze, quality costs, you know that well enough.” Kato bowed dramatically, ignoring the slight dig while awaiting further orders.

None came.

The elderly man could tell his Boss had become pre-occupied by the newest display of numbers and the cargo manifest. The dealers otherwise pale countenance had hardened amusement no longer evident in those sun-kissed eyes as they danced across the screen with growing rapidity to match his fingers.

The moment, the respite intended, had been lost.

Katze sighed. It could not be helped by the looks of things, but it would mean further explaining to his Excellency, Iason Mink this afternoon. Not something Katze was particularly looking forward to. Plasma storms or no plasma storms, Iason had been in rare form the night before and today would be no better with this piece of news.

The private auction in Sasan’s underground dome could not be rescheduled; would not be rescheduled on pain of someone’s death, perhaps even his.

Kato watched as long elegant fingers absently touched the scar on the rigid jaw line. He was thinking of his former Master and how to put the current circumstances to him.

All had been secured and paid for well in advance.

Exotica came at a rather high price for all concerned. The goods would be delivered at the appointed time, even if it cut into the rather generous margins already established by the black market dealer.

“What time would be convenient for Admon’s private ‘debrief’ this evening?”

Quietly spoken with bowed head, it was Kato’s usual way and a play on words. Kato was trying to distract him with the promise of something pleasurable to look forward to.

Despite himself and his current predicament, Katze looked up with knowing pale eyes to that expectant expression. A single digit instinctively reached out and caressed the exotic flower, resplendent in its vivid perfection.

Crimson perhaps, the color of blood, well some blood Katze chuckled with a rueful shake of his auburn head. Murder, or self-defense, depending on your view could be a cosmopolitan affair in Ceres and a most edifying means of understanding the infinite variety of colors that life giving fluids took. He had seen enough from an infinite variety of orifices about his feet.

Kato waited patiently, watching the shifting tide of those mesmerizing cognac eyes that held his.

These were the moments that defined their bond, well forged by subtle degree and understood intent.


“Whenever I get in, I’ll need the distraction and food. Go crazy tonight.”

The red-head took in the attempt at a graceful bow, slightly forestalled by what he knew was a bad back that had seen much in the way of labor and pain.

“Send them up, make sure Guy’s little entourage stays put at the bar. Keep filling his gullet with stout.”

Kato turned and left as he had come, the sound of the first light and the deep inhalation, marking his departure along with the pleasing scent of cloves. Whatever the issue, Mr. Katze would solve it. He always did.

Pale eyes watched meditatively the curved back of his servant before eventually falling on the flower once more. He had finally found an apt description of its colour.

“Ruby.”

Yes, that would do, unbidden his thoughts returning to those tresses of similar color. That patrician face with inquisitive amber eyes deeply set in that handsome head. Something he would look into, when time permitted.

Raoul had his secrets too.

~~~BMR~~~


Guy still saw red.

He could not define why the open display of nothing more than instinct had roiled his gut, but it did.

That fucker had near torn him in two in this game of dominance and who had it.

Guy shivered as he gazed back into expectant, tense blue eyes that peered at him from across the bar room floor.

Bastard.

Why had something so unimportant affected him to this extent?

Anger was the answer.

Not the memory of Donovan’s hot, moist breath against the skin of his neck, punctuating each punishing stroke of powerfully thrusting hips or the searing heat of his thick cock unrelenting in its claim while their bodies merged in pain - his pain and Donovan’s pleasure.

No anger was preferable.

Not the burgeoning need fuelled by their primordial friction culminating in guard’s guttural cries as he held him close and shuddered through his release, deep within his body, as if he had the right.

Pain. Blood. Lust.

He would hold with the pain, the blood and the sweat, never the inkling of lust. Not the pleasure he felt within his loins as the heavy body lay atop his, nor the uncontrolled spasms that seized the guard in the aftermath of their unhallowed, unwanted union.

Guy hated the intimacy of that tentative lick to his earlobe and the muffled oath of spent gratification whispered in his ear, the invasiveness of the callused palm that grasped his cock in query while the thick girth softened within, slick with his blood, detritus and cum.

No, it was preferable to focus on anger.

The anger and hate he felt on seeing Donovan atop the dais as if in meditation with tight shut eyes.

That look, entirely lost, grunting his pleasure while dispassionately petting the luxuriant head of that little shit, who kept moaned enticingly, gorging, welcoming the slick viscous offering from that twitching length that pulsed between his lips.

Guy’s fists clenched. He needed to hit something, preferably someone. That little shit would do.

Where was the little shit, anyway? He’d plug his mouth good and proper with his fist, if given the slightest opportunity. Anyway, he didn’t need teeth for the job he was best suited for. They just got in the way. He would be doing his future clientele a favor by knocking them out.

“So you just going to stand there and gape. Wasn’t it enough?” a thick hand waved in the direction of the chest by the door, pointedly ignoring the frightened figure that stood with it.

Guy had noticed the stolid shift in expression as Donovan’s gaze pointedly ignored Sid. He was right. Never, ever look at the mark. Sid was toast when they got out of here.

Donovan has crossed the room and was looking down at him with a worried expression. Bison’s leader felt the tentative grasp of his elbow and finally registered the words spoken gruffly.

“Guy? Let’s go. Come on, the Boss is waiting.”

The chestnut-haired mongrel saw red as he looked up into cold cerulean eyes and began to flail.

If he could just land a punch, maybe that would feel better. He was just too close, too close for comfort; the heat of his skin, the smell of that sickly scent that shit wore, mingled with sweat and the faint musky odor of sex.

Tainted.

"Don't touch me. You stink of him!"

Oh yes, but he did see red and those eyes, those damn familiar blue eyes as they lowered and the grip loosened. Guy knew his words had struck home. Was it shame he saw? No, not shame, acceptance shone in those chagrined eyes that instantly grew cold and hard like marbles with feigned indifference.

“Don’t start!”

Guy smiled, continuing to strike while the proverbial iron was red hot.

“Keep your shit! I, we don’t need or want it! Save it for the little cock-sucker when you fuck him raw.”

Guy’s handsome features twisted maniacally as he chuckled and scanned the empty room for a potential audience other than Sid.

He knew the monitors were on, everyone would hear his words and more importantly understand his meaning. Donovan had made a fatal mistake with him by turning his back and walking away. He wasn’t near done, ramming his little point home.

“That is if he even notices your log rammed up his ass by the end of the night. He’ll be nice and loose by then, I bet. You’ll be right at home in his stinking mouth and cum crusted hole, all nicely primed.”

Donovan stilled, one large hand pressed against the smooth glass door.

“I’m warning you, Guy, stop it.”

The sudden rigid set of the guard’s broad back before slowly turning to face Guy with a murderous expression as he made short work of the distance between them.

“No lube necessary, Donny Boy. You can bury that monster in someone’s sloppy seconds, maybe even thirds.”

“Guy!”

Bison’s leader continued, sure of his victory, however small. We’d see whose was bigger. Donovan was embarrassed, if the redness of his neck was anything to go by and the pulsing vein in his forehead.

“I’ll bet he squeals in delight at the sight of big red and bends over all obedient like and takes one for the team. He might even enjoy it! I didn’t.”

Struck by the viciousness of the mongrel’s words, Donovan did in kind without thinking.

Guy crumpled from the decisive blow to his jaw, his ears ringing as deafening, palpable silence filled the room and he lost consciousness.

“I told you to stop. Why can’t you ever stop…”

The guard flexed his fist before turning and walked away with measured steps, only stopping to give a perfunctory nod to a very frightened Sid, whose large cerulean eyes lowered.

“When he can stand, send him upstairs.”

Sid nodded quickly and bent over the prone figure in confusion with those self same blue eyes, mirror images to that of Katze’s bodyguard.

~~~BMR~~~


So that was what happened last night.

An auburn brow raised a fraction of an inch. Soft well formed lips pursed in thoughtful surprise.

Katze turned from the monitor and retrieved the languishing smoke from the ashtray.

His surmise had only been logical conjecture based on circumstances, nothing more. Donovan’s reactions had confirmed it. What he had not counted on was Guy’s vehemence. It was almost personal.

Donovan had fucked Guy, definitely non-con by the sound of things.

Katze returned his cool, speculative gaze to a monitor and watched the lumbering progress of his Number One up the stairs to his office.

Donovan’s usually quick, powerful gait was atypically plodding, and that weathered handsome face spoke volumes. He was confused and something indefinable.

“It’s me, Boss.”

Katze paused before releasing the pressurized lock, a new thought occurring. Guy’s reactions were all wrong, frighteningly similar to the maddening possessiveness that had seized him all those years ago with Riki.

This was not good. Just one day of peace. That’s all he was asking for.

“Come.”

~~~BMR~~~


Narrowed crimson eyes with a feline aspect blinked indifferently at its reflection in the bathroom mirror, only passively aware of the fussy old man adjusting the temperature of the bath water behind him.

Anger, or was it fear, he felt, rising from below? No, they would call it hate for want of better words. In truth it was sadness.

Admon gave the little portly being another cursory glance beneath the shroud of his silken, strawberry-blonde mane that hid his well sculpted, intelligent gaze from casual observation.

Loss, whatever they perceived it to be, often supplanted the instinct to survive - entirely illogical creatures for the most part. No wonder Jupiter had seen fit to create their betters in the form of the Elite.

“Admon?”

Then again, there were those few amongst these mongrel hordes, such as the one with the scar but otherwise flawless face. His manner was reminiscent of the Master, though frail of body by comparison. His eyes were intriguing. There was depth there, something worth exploring while he waited for the Master’s return, if he returned.

“Admon, your bath is ready. You will be dining with Mr. Katze tonight. I trust you will do your best to please?”

The innocuous statement was met with shrinking obeisance, and a demure attractive smile. He could see his response had pleased Kato, whose weary little eyes still searched his, now that they were uncovered.

Another hurdle met and leapt, despite his obvious lineage. Something else worthy of thought, he mused while disrobing and slowly sinking into the tub with unwanted assistance.

Apparently the black market dealer had a passing knowledge of his kind and had accepted him without fear, but with definite favor. There would be no reason to hide his true being from him cosmetically.

He had felt that speculative gaze upon him while performing the rudimentary task of oral coitus on the well hung male, who had his own pre-occupations with that vicious, unbalanced mongrel below. If the wretched creature only knew, but that was neither here nor there at the moment, he had to prepare for his greatest performance.

Those rich golden eyes held sparks of lust along with curiosity and conflict with said.

Empathic abilities were not required to recognize that this one liked control and lots of it. Most males did by predisposition and physiological design. Sex for the humanoid male being was solely a game of thrust and parry for the most part. Only the skilled took it beyond that and grasped the sensual possibilities.

Admon smiled secretively, suspecting Katze would prove the exception to the rule. Control did take so many forms, even in seeming supplication, something he felt his new Master knew well.

He could work with that. Giving pleasure was his primary function after all and in this instance, it was his wish to do so.

Yes, this Katze was so much like the Master, right down to those golden, inquisitive intelligent eyes.

He would have to be careful, but the evening held promise nonetheless.

~~~BMR~~~


Where Donovan chose to sheathed his cock really wasn’t his business unless doing so put the organization at risk.

Wandering dicks not withstanding, he had to impress upon this otherwise loyal and often times taciturn male that emotional entanglements were to be avoided, particularly with the psychotically inclined.

Sex was currency; a form of relaxation nothing more, he told himself shunning the memory of satin soft tresses the color of spun gold, flawless alabaster skin dewed with sweat. The thought of soft insistent lips and an impertinent tongue that bore traces of that heavenly confection was in no way appropriate right now.

Chocolate, that is what it was called. Perhaps Kato’s contacts could find some for tonight’s dessert.

Katze re-crossed his legs…carefully. No good, he needed to focus.

The dealer pursed his lips and pointed to the florescent screen of maps and with stylus outlining exactly where the valuable shipment would be stored in the underground dome. It would be well away from prying eyes.

Donovan nodded his agreement but still regarded him quizzically. The Boss’ body language spoke of physical tension and what was with that quiet groan?

“Eight, fully loaded. Six hours on, six off round the clock.”

Katze inclined his head and regarded Donovan, still somewhat concerned. Not so much with the logistics of safeguarding the exotic Pet in question, more so with the tired expression in those usually forthright eyes that skittered across his face briefly with an unspoken question.

“What was that about? Downstairs I mean.”

He had to get Donovan back on track and away from Guy. The man was like an open flame that consumed and destroyed everything in his fiery wake.

“I’ve got it under control, Boss.”

“I see no evidence of that. Don’t need him going off half-cocked, no pun intended and turning this encounter of yours into a fucking drama, Donovan.”

For the first time that day a genuine smile crossed the rugged face of his Number One, who blushed beneath his tan.

“I know. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Though unconvinced, Katze chose not to press. There were details still to be shored up for the cargo in question - business first; personal bullshit, later.

It was a mantra he knew he would do well to remember himself.

“We’ll need a specialized med tech there on standby. This one’s a freak.”

Katze snickered and tapped the keyboard. The screen vanished.

“It’s a Chimera.”

“No offense Boss, it’s a fuckin’ freak of nature. The usual crew won’t be able to handle shit, if something goes wrong and we’ll be left holding the…well, holding whatever it is.”

Katze stifled a grimace. Donovan was right. They could not approach the usual Med Techs who worked for the black market.

This auction didn’t even exist.

Its guest list was secret, wealthy beyond avarice, perverse in equal measure and politically savvy. One false move and it would be his head on the platter if caught out. Some items procured were even on planetary extinction watch.

The black market dealer’s jaw clenched as he abruptly stood and made for the wet bar. He would have to go straight to the top.

Donovan quietly studied Katze’s impassive expression as he stood and walked to the bar. The red-head gestured amicably at the decanter. Donovan declined the offer of a companionable drink.

Guy was still on the premises. He would need all his wits about him for the coming melee.

Katze closed his eyes and downed the amber liquid. It burnt his throat, before its radiating warmth soothed his constricted chest.

The red-head poured another and downed it in one swig.

He did not need or want another encounter with Sir Am so soon. Perhaps a word with Iason, but then that would prompt unwanted questions as to why he had not contacted Raoul directly. It was his area of expertise.

Eying the empty snifter, Katze broad shoulders slumped as he refilled it a third time and polished off its contents.

Raoul would find a way to take offense and then take it out on him.

“I’ll take care of it, this afternoon.”

Rich golden eyes, now hidden beneath long sooty lashes critically assessed the attentive, physically robust male perched lightly on the corner of his desk just watching him.

He had his own Guy to contend with, what gave him the right to advise anyone? Still wonders would never cease. He really could never imagine those two together.

In fact, Katze blinked rapidly and downed the amber liquid quickly in an attempt to banish the thought. He really could do with not imagining anyone with Guy in that way.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he continued to fielding questions pertaining to other cargo expected. Since when did the Boss drink anything but coffee at this hour?

Katze had become monosyllabic, his eyes inward gazing – never a good sign.

“Boss?”

Katze shook his head and refocused his attention. Maybe that third drink had not been such a good idea. Bison’s leader was several electrons shy of an atomic discharge. Riki had learnt this the hard way; but for Jupiter’s supposed benevolence.

“Boss?”

Even Lambda 3000 was capable of bending when pushed by its favored son.

The Almighty God of Amoi, or Jupiter in common parlance, had given in and extended grace to its chosen’s irascible, ill bred mongrel Pet.

Katze’s lips quirked lazily, amused by the irony of the predicament the AI had been in at the time not to mention its most unwilling of allies, Sir Raoul Am.

To save one, it would have to save both. An atypical compromise to soothe the mania and obsessive compunction its ultimate creation felt to possess, own, perhaps even cherish, a flawed being so unlike himself.

The red-head’s lips thinned.

They were all obsessive with their toys.

Blondies were unused to being challenged or denied as a rule, this Katze knew all too well from first hand experience. Verdant green eyes invaded his private musings on all things Elite. The memory of maliciously quirk lips descending on his possessively irked.

He was not a Pet. He was no one’s personal plaything.

‘Bastards!”

Donovan blinked, confused by the sudden outburst and the livid expression in those exotically tilted eyes that stared straight through him.

The guard’s expression grew veiled in sudden understanding.

That truth was a long time coming; they neither of them had spoken of the other night, nor the car with the Syndicate crest seen leaving in the early hours.

“You’re gonna contact, Sir Am, right?”

“Yep.”

Katze waved dismissively at the Elite’s name. “I think we’re done here, unless you have any questions?”

Blue eyes fixed coolly on the impassive face across the room that dared him to challenge. It wasn’t the right time to pursue this.

“Yeah, I do, but it’ll keep.”

Katze’s eyes narrowed meaningfully.

“Leave it alone, Donovan.”

As always what was not said, proved more eloquent in their dealings. He just wasn’t up to this discussion right now, even if he did owe him the truth.

“Fix it. Give him his instructions for tonight. I don’t care how you do it. Just fix it, Donovan or I will...permanently.”

Donovan blanched, all color draining from his tanned face. It seems the Boss had seen the little drama after all. The real issue was how to solve it? Guy was a wild card and he didn’t necessarily want him hurt.

Katze graceful turned and headed for the door then stopped abruptly, turning to pin him with an unwavering cold amber stare.

“Admon is off limits, by the way. Strictly for clients we have vetted. He is Karinese.”

“I had no plans…what, he’s an Empath?”

Katze nodded slowly.

“Keep that to yourself. I will conduct his final debrief tonight before he joins the stable. He could prove useful to the organization, if he survives.”

Donovan blinked. This was a first. The Boss only ever watched. He never took part. What was the attraction aside from a damn good mouth?

“Oookay…I hope you don’t believe all that shit you overheard?”

Katze understood the real question, but ignored it. He didn’t feel like dealing with that either.

“Never mix business with pleasure, particularly with maniacs with control issues who are just as likely to kill you as fuck you with equal indifference.”

“Like you, Boss?”

It was out before he could edit himself and truly it had meant to be a joke. Donovan watched as myriad emotions pass over that stoically handsome face. The guard shifted uncomfortably beneath the feral gaze knocking, over the bud vase as Katze slowly approached him on those eerily silent feet of his.

Though angered by the unexpected rejoinder pale lips lifted in a half smile that did not meet cold, amber eyes. It amused that this tall, imposing male was cringing.

“Yeah, like me, Donovan. Fix it…today.”

The red-head watched abstractedly as Donovan’s large paw-like hands nervously attempted to retrieve the bloom, only succeeding in severing it from its stem. A cascade of crimson petals escaped the bodyguard’s fingers, fluttering to the gray carpeting like droplets of blood.

Beauty was fleeting.

“All over it, Boss,” Donovan hurriedly stood and sheepishly pocketed what remained of crimson petals in his embarrassment.

“Isn’t that what caused the problem in the first place?”

Donovan coughed and excused himself, leaving the office with far more speed than he intended.

Katze snickered, flopped on the couch and lit another Black Nocturne. He still had an hour to kill. Maybe by then this fucking drama with Guy would be over; one less thing to worry about.

Those petals strewn about the carpet had taken on almost carnelian hue in the fading sunlight.

What to do with Admon?

That one was more than he appeared at first glance. Why had he been hiding and how had he managed to find himself in the slums? Though the clothing had been torn it had been of the very best quality and exotic in origin. Not the standard fare worn, even by the most pampered of Academy Pets kept in Apathia.

~~~BMR~~~


The crimson crescent beneath his right earlobe still stung. His every move would be tracked from here on in.

He was marked.

Admon of Karin was the property of the Black Market Dealer now. No chance of escape. He sighed and regarded his reflection impassively and closed his eyes, allowing the still alien feelings of curiosity to wash over him.

Katze was alone in his office. The well endowed mongrel had long left in pursuit of the erratic one. He would have to avoid him in future. No good could come of their meeting at this time.

Admon smiled knowing. His stay here would be interesting, to say the least. The one called Katze was plotting, though his mind wandered.

This mongrel favored dark autumnal colors but the frequency that most pleased him was green, deep emerald green. It clearly reminded him of someone as yet unclear. There was emotional content behind this preference that remained muddled. Some manner of deep seated conflict was there in the association.

A long held secret, even from himself, Admon mused with growing interest, returning his inner gaze to the rapidly shifting mosaic that was the mongrel’s cunning and quite dangerous mind.

Katze was plotting alright, well beyond their future coital encounter. Admon smiled. He hadn’t been with such a sensual being in quite a long time. The evening did hold promise.

Admon eyed the luxurious assortment of raiment set upon his bed for choosing with growing interest. The emerald green called to him and yet, something said no – too personal and likely to backfire.

For tonight, he would choose the filmy shift of crimson red that so closely matched his unmasked eyes, far preferable.

It was the color of passion. He intended to foster this, if only as a form of protection from the erratic one.

Admon smiled again, happy for a chance to please, as was his calling. Finally, another worthy of his attentions, unlike the preoccupied creature he had performed with earlier.

Too simple, too basic and entirely distracted by another; no point taking it personally that he was not the singular focus of his climax. The erratic one had no idea, but soon would.


~~~BMR~~~


Guy steeled himself as he heard the lock disengage. He would not make a sound. If he was going to kill him, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a whimper.

He was going out strong.

His heart thrummed in his chest with fear. This was probably it. Donovan had yet to speak to him and the gag was fucking uncomfortable in his mouth and the bindings bit into his wrists painfully.

God how he hated being pinned with nearly inhuman strength, dragged through the bar, and carried down the stairs effortlessly, in front of everyone, like some fucking piece of baggage.

No one even looked in his direction. Not even that fucker Sid.

Being tossed on the cot of the cell then left was even worse. He really had gone too far this time. No cameras were in these cells. It was usually a one way trip once you were here. No matter how you screamed the sound proofed walls would never tell.

Donovan remained silent as he re-entered the room carrying two bottles of stout. He kicked the metal door shut and slowly walked to the small table on the far side of the cell.

Guy nervously watched as the formidable man poured two long drinks and glanced over a broad shoulder at him.

“If I uncork that foul mouth of yours, will you be quiet and listen?”

Bison’s leader kept his gaze level and he hoped his eyes told of his complete indifference to the inevitable outcome of the little speech.

Guy cut his eyes and instinctively curled up further into the corner of the cot, away from the light. No he would not give that bastard the satisfaction.

“Will you listen?”

Compromise was not something familiar to the chestnut haired mongrel. It was over anyway. Any minute now the burn of a dagger would end it. Nice, neat and clean as it cauterized the gaping wound. No point in giving a muffled answer.

Guy stiffened as the thick set guard turned on one heel and darted towards him with frightening speed.

He closed his eyes and raised his neck expectantly. It wouldn’t take long. It was just pain. If it was to be the last thing he did, he would be quiet, dignified and shit. It would finally be over.

No more hunger. No more fear. No more pain.

Warm breath brushed his cheek unexpectedly. So soft, almost a whisper in his ear, “I’m not going to kill you. Katze will, if you don’t get your shit together.”

Gray eyes opened and blinked in confusion as his hands were released with a muffled grunt of frustration. Blood trickled back into cold throbbing hands as he rubbed his bruised wrists, refusing to meet the gaze he knew was upon him.

“Be quiet for a change, no lip. Okay?”

A cold bottle was forced into his hand as the cot shifted under Donovan’s considerable weight and the gag was removed.

A sidelong, hateful glance was the response as Guy put the bottle to his parched lips and drank. God it was good to be alive, even in this pit.

Donovan’s worn handsome face eased. “I take that as a yes?”

Guy thought to respond “Take it any fuckin’ way you want…asshole,” but didn’t – a first.

He was too close. Still smelt like that little cocksucker a bit and well, he had gotten a reprieve. That was worth something for however long it lasted.

“I’m sorry…I …ah…you know… hurt you and stuff. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

Guy blinked, thoroughly confused by the nearness and the words spoken. Words he had never heard in his twenty three years of life, much less uttered by the man about to take his life. This had to be a joke, a really sick joke.

The now empty bottle felt good in his hand as he held the neck in a weapon like fashion and slowly rose, backing away, prepared to make a final stand.

So this was the game after all. Get him all nice and cozy then pounce, he might have known.

One more for the road, it didn’t really matter now. No one would hear. No one would see. No one would come. He would be left to bleed out in this cold room, in the dark until light faded. His body would be collected later and disposed of, like so much trash.

The crash of the bottle as nerveless fingers released it, brought him from his dour reverie.

“Okay, whatever…go for it,” he said with a quiet air of resignation as he began unbuckling his belt and felt hard callused fingers covering his.

“Guy, what the fuck are you doing? Did you even hear what I said?”

He began to laugh, looking up into confused dark irises as the heat of that hard, familiar body pressed into his against the cold cell door.

“You really think I’m stupid, don’t you? Don’t try to fuck with my head. We both know I’m not leaving here. Get on with it.”

The chestnut-haired mongrel thrust his hips forward provocatively intimating an interest not felt by Donovan in his form as roughened hands, quickly undid his zipper and pawed aggressively at his flaccid cock.

“What no interest? Isn’t this why you brought me down here?”

He was hardening. Yeah, as he suspected, Donovan wanted to play.

Guy chuckled, “I thought as much.”

Glaring back into the now hooded gaze that focused on his stout moistened lips, Guy chuckled, ignoring his own body’s tell tale response to the penetrating stare. The sudden warmth he felt coursing through his own belly and that dull ache, he refused to give a name was unwelcomed.

“No one will hear, Donny Boy, or is it only good when the fucked is unwilling?

Donovan’s gaze remained fixed on his lips.

“Make it good, this time, this last time.”

Katze tapped the cold keys beneath his fingers and closed the screen. He really didn’t need anything more to confirm his suspicions, nor did he wish to engage visually in their little drama.

The outcome was clear. Guy really was retarded. At death’s door the jackass was still tempting fate and refusing to take responsibility for what he felt or wanted, regardless of protestations.

He wanted Donovan.

Languidly the black market dealer, eased himself off the couch and keyed the lock on the single drawer of his desk, pocketed its cold metallic contents and sighed.

He didn’t need this.

Fifteen minutes tops he figured to be fair. Donovan did have staying power, as he had observed in the past. It would be up to him to remove the irritant in this losing game of lust; a game he knew all too well.

Perhaps another drink to steady his nerves before the disagreeable task ahead; damn but he was disappointed in Donovan.

Raoul, another fly in the ointment of his life, would have to be faced soon enough, he did not have control of that outcome, but he sure as fucking hell did over this one.

~~~BMR~~~


Warm, soft and gentle were the lips that took his with moist exploration as strong hands stopped his wandering ones and firm hips pinned him to the cold metal of the door.

“No, Guy, just a kiss, nothing more.”

A warm tongue circled his mouth with infinite care, seeking every secreted moist crevice with languid swipes, eliciting soft unexpected moans from his own throat and hungry lips explored in turn the skin of his neck while claw-like hands held his, preventing retaliatory movement.

What had become of his worn leather clasp that kept his thick, rich hair in place, he would never know, but the heat of finger tips massaging his scalp as both bodies graced the cold floor held more interest and the warmth of the hard, body atop his, took precedence over all else.

No one had ever taken the time to kiss him like this, with infinite care.

“I’m so sorry, Guy,” was the softly murmured plea against his lips.

This wasn’t real. Where was the pain instead of the feel of the needful body atop his signaling want far beyond his current understanding; it felt so alien as he fell deeper into this most intimate of touches.

~~~BMR~~~


Katze closed the port behind him, resigned to his fate. Donovan was not dispensable, Guy was.

He hadn’t foreseen this. His chest constricted. First his Excellency, then Raoul Am and then, who knows, he might feel better about snuffing Guy, after tangling with Raoul. It did complicate matters considerably, but he had no choice.

Katze had spent a lifetime observing obsession in action. He knew it well. Iason Mink and the Dark Mongrel came to mind. Their initial bond was also forged by pain that eventually lead to acquiescence.

He remembered the fateful night, when resistance had truly become futile and the performance had taken a decisive turn for his then Master. It had been not enough to simply observe, to quell the desire as to be expected.

The scream of the mongrel had echoed through the penthouse as he was taken without preparation, without thought and as always the twin moons had observed, impassively that change in the dynamics of the household forever.


~~~BMR~~~


Admon kept his head bowed as he silently approached the attractive wraith like figure standing in deep contemplation. He hadn’t meant to take this circuitous route back to his own salon but his feet carried him nonetheless to the destined one.

Katze’s intriguing eyes refocused abruptly and landed on his naked feet with a mixture of amusement and query before slowly making their way up the diaphanous robe to his exquisite face. Admon could both see and feel he had chosen well in costume.

“Admon?”

Ruby red irises cautiously rose to meet intrigued amber. “Yes, Master Katze?”

“Aaaaaaahhm, what no slippers?”

“It is my preference, Master Katze.”

“Just Katze or Boss will do in future.”

“Yes, of course. Mister Kato has requested I always address you as befits your station, Mister Katze. I will do better.” The dealer’s aura danced with amusement and quiet pride at the mention of Kato’s name, something to remember.

A wry smile crossed pale lips. Admon looked absolutely edible. A veritable feast for the eyes and he knew it, demure bullshit notwithstanding.

Katze beckoned him lazily with one finger and leaned against the wall.

Tall, gracefully sensual in his movements, he more than knew his power to attract and keep attention. Flawlessly proportioned in build with poreless, pearlescent skin that begged to be touched, and as for the hair, its glow was almost incandescent, able enhanced by his manner of dress.

Admon was good alright. Had Katze not known better, he would have sworn this one had been bred to his calling off world. That well sculpted face housed intelligent eyes that belied the feigned submissiveness. Those eyes were softly beguiling in the current low light of the hall, but if you looked steadily enough, carefully enough, their true glacial, analytical perfection shun through.

“Admon, I would appreciate if you stop trying to read me and just ask your question in future. Your life expectancy will markedly improve by doing so.”

There it was again, that shift, the narrowing of those jewel toned eyes. Katze more than understood why Admon kept them averted most often, unless compelled, such as now. Those peepers were most definitely disconcerting when unmasked to those unused to their appearance.


Admon approached cautiously, filing away the response for later review as he got down on all fours at Katze’s well shod feet.

“Ooooooooh but you are good. The clients will eat it up. Save it for them.”

The chill Admon had previously felt in the hall had returned with a rush. Katze resented his obeisance.

“Master…I mean, Mister Katze, have I done something to displease you?”

Katze bent and shifted thick tendrils from the flawless face.

“You are very beautiful, and deadly in your deceptiveness. Use it where it is merited. Not on me. Not ever.”

Admon registered the touch. No threat, just point of fact.

“I understand. It won’t happen again.”

Katze chuckled and took the long slim hand in his as they rose together. “Oh yes, it will. You can’t help yourself. Just thought I would give you fair warning. I’ve worked with your kind before.”

The smile, as Admon expected did not reach his new owner’s eyes which remained opaque, blocking him. There in lay the threat.

Admon’s skin prickled as darkness overwhelmed his sight and a searing pain hit him in the gut. Instinctively he pulled away with wide, fearful eyes. That had been entirely unexpected.

Katze blinked away the sight and leaned heavily against the wall for support as his heart raced and he too recoiled from the touch. What the hell was that? Suddenly he had been back in that darkened alcove with the portrait of the Ruby. What was more, he felt he knew him and with the association, pain.


~~~BMR~~~