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 – 12 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"For A_ngua et toutes les autres."

Chapter 12 of 25 – Scent and Sensuality (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~


How long they stood there in silence simply regarding one another with wonder, fear and a good deal of trepidation it could not be said.

Admon was the first to move, holding out his trembling hands to the Black Market dealer, willing the reticent red-head to grasp his outstretched palms.

“Please…I need…I want…just please, this once, Katze.”

The request came so softly, so baleful in its pleading tone, Admon was frightened and had not even registered the inappropriate use of his owner’s given name. Katze would let it go this time.

Admon was seeking something more than the tentative touch of those cool palms atop his. That beautiful face grew sad, the want retreating from his eyes as he lowered his gaze and refocused to the here and now.

No darkness this time, just warm, enticing skin beneath Katze’s no longer reticent touch. Still, why and how had the Ruby’s image come to mind?

“Thank you, Master Katze. I will no longer keep you.”

Katze breathed out in relief. Just a fluke, he was tired. He had drunk too much on an empty stomach; just imaginings, but just in case, it was worth asking the intriguing creature.

Admon began lowering his hands, but found them caught gently, examined and then folded as if in prayer against a broad chest, sending a delicate tremor through the Karinese’ extremities. Regardless of appearance, Katze’s heart beat was still erratic. He too had felt the pull. He shouldn’t have. He was a mongrel.

“Answer me truthfully, Admon. Is the name Raoul Am familiar to you in anyway?”

Admon looked less than relieved as his eyes cast about, searching the equally speculative gaze for that something as yet undefined within Katze’s golden eyes.

He looked defeated. It was the one thing Katze could say for sure as those ruby orbs took on their usual coquettish mask of petulance, designed to distract, distance and engender lust.

“No?”

Pale lips smirked, allowing those long graceful fingers to withdraw from beneath his by degree. The red-head placed a single digit against soft, giving lips in rebuke. Like warm velvet, he mused.

“Liar.”

So reminiscent of the flowers petals in their smooth, moist, full exterior, his lids remained at half mast enjoying the feel of the soft flesh beneath his finger tip. Admon’s gaze remained lowered, though his hands rose once again to carefully adjust and smooth the shift of material in the soft silken shirt Katze wore, awaited the next move.

“Should I, Mister Katze?”

A stalemate but a quiet one, requiring no response other than the immediate enjoyment of touch, warmth and burgeoning interest in this game as that expert tongue darted out playfully and licked his fingertip suggestively.

Katze moaned. Why the fuck was he feeling so damn horny all of sudden?

He was good alright.

“We’ll pick this up over dinner. Make sure Kato puts some champagne on ice. Tonight we both will be drinking stars and you will rethink your little deception.”

“As you wish, it is my pleasure to serve you in any capacity you deem appropriate, my Master and I am not being deceitful.”

Katze heard another low, needy groan, realizing too late it had been his own as a searing jolt of lust tensed already taut abdominal muscle and the softest of scents wafted to his nostrils.

Pheromones…Admon had control of his unlike most humanoids. The closer he got, the more dangerous the game. Katze breathed out, determined to break the spell.

“Return to your quarters. Now…please. One of us is going to regret this, I just know it.”

He was good, way too good at this.

“As you wish, Master Katze, I will be awaiting your return.”

It was funny but as he watched Admon walk away, with a silent dignified pace, he thought of Raoul. Crimson would never suit him in that way, nor would Admon’s distinctive scent.

Katze turned and headed for the stairs and was not privy to the secretive smile that played about the flawless face of his newest acquisition. Today, Admon knew that victory could favor the supplicant in the guise of companionship.


~~~BMR~~~


They had not done this for some time, this indulgence of companionship, a rare bottle and time simply to converse of this and that, without the presence of that tiresome mongrel his leader held dear.

“Crisp.”

Iason’s nosed the wine meditatively, then sipped with satisfaction.

“Perfect in its effervescence and clarity, a good year. Well chosen, Raoul.”

“I concur, Iason, entirely pleasing to the palette and sufficiently dry,” Raoul joined him in a companionable sip, basking in the sharp bite of the pale, gold liquid, “Like drinking stars I believe is the correct adage.”

Ice blue eyes flashed, ever so briefly in the pale patrician face of his leader. “No Raoul, I say what I mean, always or hadn’t you noticed?”

Verdant green lowered to the rim of the flute, giving the conversation pause.

This aspect of Iason’s nature had always been troublesome at best, particularly after a meeting of minds with Jupiter.

Jumpy would not be the right word. Not even defensive per say. Just an overwhelming tendency to retaliate for imagined slights. Raoul allowing the bubbly liquid to rest on his lower gum, tasting it with the tip of his tongue before allowing it to wend its pleasing way down his throat.

“I was merely referencing the historical journals of ancient Benedictine who gifted us with this rare delight, Dom Perignon.

Iason’s soft silky response carried a warning tone. “I stand corrected, dear friend.”

“Very little has changed in the chemical formulation or process for that matter.”

“Though I loathe to admit it, my knowledge of champagne’s key properties is superficial at best. Do elucidate, Raoul.”

The smile that touched Iason’s mobile mouth chilled his most trusted brethren through. Those ice-blue eyes did not share the same sentiment of tone, regardless of the attempt at levity in his rich speaking voice that echoed in the cavernous, well appointed living space.

His head still ached. Jupiter had been rather thorough this time and somewhat invasive in the depth of its probe. It was rare for the Sentient One to be so demanding of its first born, but equally rare had been the diffidence shown by the favored child when probed on the Dark Mongrel.

Perceptive green eyes observed beneath a wayward, rich golden tendril the subtle shift of muscle beneath porcelain skin and the rigid set of Iason’s lower jaw. He was in pain.

“But of course, with pleasure.”

Raoul bowed decorously, taking in the stiff necked stance of his friend’s posture while seated and the tightly coiled movement of shoulder muscles beneath his sash-coat. Discipline and decorum dictated he hold his tongue.

“The wine’s history is quite intriguing actually. Amazing what the occasional fortunate accident can produce.”

Iason was trying to be sociable, despite obvious physical discomfort.

“How so?”

It had not been lost on his second in command that the lights had been dimmed by the Furniture and the blinds that led to the balcony had been partially drawn. Iason was undoubtedly having one of his post-communion migraines. More than likely why Riki had made such a quick exit upon his arrival. Not that he minded of course. Regardless of Iason’s view, the dark one always set his teeth on edge.

“Apparently, the wines bottled in the Fall in the Champagne district of France had the distressing habit of popping the antiquated cotton wadding that served as corks come the season of Spring. The only solution the monk found was to order thicker corks, which in turn broke the bottles.”

Iason bowed, feigning interest as he raised an elegantly gloved hand and sipped the much discussed libation as his Furniture hovered prepared to refill both flutes.

“Go on,” the Syndicate leader said in a deep amenable tone as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Raoul’s own narrowed. He accepted a top up and regarded the rigid countenance before him. He knew he was being humored but there would be time enough to address this after the Furniture retreated into shadow.

“Well, eventually stronger bottles were ordered and they held. It is in the second fermentation that yeast and sugar are added. The bubbles are a natural byproduct of the conversion of sugar into alcohol.”

Raoul had grown tired of this little dissertation, meant for exactly whom? “Iason, excuse the impertinence of the question but are you well?”

“Moderate discomfort, it will pass.”

“Perhaps a brief rest would not go amiss. I can have something prepared to alleviate the symptoms if you wish?”

Glacial blue eyes opened and studied Raoul’s features. “Perhaps after my meeting with Katze, he should be here shortly. The auction is tomorrow and we have a few details still yet to discuss.”

Raoul blinked, despite his best efforts as those calculating, pools of pale blue light sparkled with something akin to an agenda of their own.

“You will stay of course? I can’t imagine you have anything particularly pressing to attend to at the moment and your expertise is always welcomed.”

An icy shiver travelled the length of Raoul’s spine. “Of course, Iason, as you wish.”

Soft as smoke was the request from lips quirking in a half smile that never quite met steely blue eyes. Iason's gaze continued to appraise as the delicate flute was lifted in summons.

“Excellent… another while we wait?”

This had been the purpose of the meeting - Katze.

Raoul adjusted his cuffs distractedly, under the watchful, narrowed gaze of his leader.

~~~BMR~~~


Katze watched as the clouds passed silently overhead weaving a tapestry of rich hues, its gilded threads the light of the setting sun. Gold, amber, warm rich orange burned a path across the sky, fading into deeper almost imperceptible flows of colour beneath the veil of pale clouds.

It really never failed to amaze the Black Market dealer, but clouds were essential for a beautiful sunset. The movement, the depth the delicacy of color could not be appreciated without clouds. Just as in life. He shook his head. Now just to find that beauty, however fleeting in this cloudy day once he had completed his task – Admon would do for now. He quickly quashed the errant thought of Raoul, his lips, his scent, his body. He would not allow that again.

The sound of boots, the lazy gait on the roof’s faux gravel surface, could be none other.

Katze sighed as he walked to the edge and looked over for confirmation, ignoring the approaching laconic footfalls. Yep, there it was. The fucking hover bike parked in front of his own vehicle.

No one else had the balls, or the security retinue that comprised three heavily armed vehicles, that just happened to be in the vicinity, blocking the exit to the club’s alley way.

“Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you too, Katze. Shouldn’t you be making your way to the penthouse?”

Katze turned and faced the dark leather clad male with the inquisitive expression. “He’s here, shit for brains. I told you to let me know when you feel like taking one of your fly by’s. What the fuck is wrong with you, Riki?”

Riki yawned and stretched unselfconsciously, revealing taut smooth muscle beneath the thin black material of his shirt.

“I had to get out of there. I had nowhere else to go that those asswipes downstairs wouldn’t freak out about.”

“Security?”

“Yeah. I had to agree, or I’d be cut off. He’s in one of his moods,” the dark mongrel rolled his eyes. “You know how it is…Jupiter. He’s always pissy after.”

Katze sighed and handed over his smoke. “Don’t wet it.”

Riki snorted. “You wish,” and took a long drag. He toyed briefly with licking the filter tip for good measure but chose to take another lungful instead. “What you doin’ up here anyway? You always come up here when you are in deep…”

“Not now, Riki.” Katze said tiredly turning away from his friend. “Take the scenic route home. Just get out of here. I have enough shit without Guy seeing you and fucking going off. He’s already up to his eyeballs in psycho bullshit with Donovan, who just had to fuck him and is probably doing so now, as we speak.”

The smirk on the darkly handsome well boned face fled.

“Oooooooooookay…you’re not shitting me or anything, right?”

Katze’s shoulders sagged. “I wish.”

“Not takin’ the piss or anything…those two are actually?” Riki laughed out loud causing the surprised dealer to turn just in time to witness a rather obscene gesture intimated by lean, leather clad hips.

The redhead shook his head and snickered. Riki would always be Riki.

“Yeah…my thoughts exactly,” he gestured to the rapidly dwindling smoke. “Gimme that.”

Riki took another drag, dark eyes growing serious as he handed the near butt to his friend. “I don’t see this as all that bad, Katze.”

It was rare for dealer to blanch, paling further and almost choking on smoke. Perhaps Riki hadn’t heard him right. His eyes looked normal. No evidence of any narcotics. Why so flip, especially with their history?

~~~BMR~~~


Of dark and light were the intricate markings that covered the smooth expanse of a well proportioned back. The tip of Guy’s tongue followed a thin rivulet of sweat that had formed in the valley that was Donovan’s spine to the flame-like tongue that also licked and feasted upon the dragon’s tail.

Carefully, tentatively Guy tasted and nipped the surprisingly soft skin, outlining the ink on display, while nervous fingers soothed and smoothed their way over the flat rippling muscles of a flawless abdomen to their goal.

“Soft as a baby’s ass, who knew,” he murmured smiling against warm, salty, kind of sexy skin and wondered, however briefly, what it would be like to give Donovan head. He held the heavy, pulsing member within his grasp possessively. That little shit had nothing on him. Donovan would cave in a lung when he was done with him.

He received for his efforts a preening flex, a soft moan of encouragement as the body beneath him quivered, glad of the contact and the friction of a well practiced palm. Guy smiled, his own breath catching with each teasing stroke. He thumbed the slick head of Donovan’s cock and adjusted his weight, his own heaving chest found its way along the supple spine, eliciting another deep felt sigh. Damn but he smelt good, Guy noted, continuing to trace a path to the base of Donovan’s neck.

A strong back flexed beneath him and a firm rump lifted making contact with his already swollen length. Guy stiffened, unsure of his welcome, regardless. It was only fair to warn the fucker that he would take what was on offer.

He nipped Donovan’s ear hard and snickered, when the bodyguard, remaining silent but for a wince. If you waited long enough, you could always get your own back. “You don’t want to encourage this, Donny Boy, you might not like it. Karma’s a bitch.”

Guy waited for the expected virulent response. He did expect to be on his ass and on the receiving end of punishment for his impudence, but none came, just a callused hand atop his, adjusting his rhythm, stroke for stroke. Donovan’s eyes remained firmly closed against the pillow. Nothing but soft moans and feel of a killer ass undulating, mimicking, encouraging, the instinctive shift of Guy’s hips.

The chestnut haired mongrel leaned to one side and peered at the weathered, handsome face in repose. His jaw was clenched in readiness.

Cold.

Guy felt suddenly inordinately cold without the callused hand atop his. He was being played. Heaving himself off the prone perfection beneath him, he snarled. Ardor was a strange thing, as was revenge when robbed of its heat and aggression.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Donovan?”

A long sigh escaped the bodyguard’s chest as he slowly turned his naked form and plumped the pillows behind him, strong muscles rippling beneath smooth skin, exposing the continued warp and weft of the intricate dragon motif that coiled into the likeness of the twin moons upon his chest.

Blue as blue on blue gazed up at the naked well formed body with clear interest evident between his long smooth thighs. “You could have you know? I wouldn’t have protested.”

Cold shifted to heat and then back again, now lukewarm as his heart thrummed within his chest in confusion.

“And you think that makes us even?”

Donovan shrugged though his gaze remained level. “I’m tired of the fight, Guy. I don’t want to fight you. Don’t you get it?”

Guy reached for his jeans. He needed to get the fuck out of here and think. “Am I free to go?”

Thick fingers passed over a weary face. “Yeah, whatever, the door’s not locked. Just try. Please try to not make this fuck up business. I made a mistake. Don’t make it yours, ‘cause Katze isn’t patient.”

His fingers fumbled with the shirt. Half the fucking buttons were gone and he hadn’t even gotten laid, merely groped. Grey eyes passed over the body on the bed. Fuck but he still wanted to do him, despite the bullshit but he had principles. No one fucked with his brain like this…well, other than Riki back in the day.

He’d find some other way to get even with the fucker and it would hurt, really hurt.

A slow maniacal smile came to thinned lips. “Sure, whatever, Donny Boy. Maybe the little shit will take you up on your generous offer. I’ll take the crap in the trunk, if it’ll shut you up.”

Donovan’s gaze remained unwavering as he watched Guy head for the door. “Whatever, Guy.”

Something made Bison’s leader turn to take a final look. Damn the fucker was fine and he knew it. Way too smug. Pointedly he leered. “That looks painful. I’d take care of that if I were you.”

Guy saw the smirk creeping onto those full lips and fled, slamming the metallic door.

Asshole, he thought taking the stairs two at a time heading for the bar. He’d get even with him, yet, maybe even fuck him while he was at it, but on his own terms. He was no one’s pity fuck.

~~~BMR~~~


That slouch was distinctive.

Katze chuckled surprisingly amused by smoke rings growing ever distant and indistinct above the flawless dark head currently reclining on his couch. The Kid was ridiculously flexible, he envied that. Long legs were splayed, one finding purchase over the back of the couch and the other still on the rug taping a beat that could only be heard within that mercurial brain.

Katze suppressed the genuine smile that came to his lips because of this peculiar friendship. Riki’s presence did bolster his mood a bit. Even if he didn’t exactly buy the explanation as to why it was cool for Guy to have a new interest. The red-head wondered peripherally, if the Kid even knew why it didn’t really bother him as much. The queries had grown fewer and few as to the current state of Bison, or more accurately the state of Guy’s health.

“I’ve got thirty minutes. What has Iason done now?’

Riki raised his head. “Who said he did anything? He’s having one of his swooooons. We agreed long ago, that a little distance helps. He’s always attentive afterwards though, just like it never happened.”

An auburn brow rose a fraction in disbelief. There had to be more. “Twenty-nine minutes and counting, Kid.”

“See, what happened to the offer of a drink, maybe a little light entertainment, like say checking out some freak of a client gettin’ drilled in a new and special way on the monitor while we do the talk thing and critique his or her performance?”

“Twenty-seven…”

Riki sat up and adjusted the leather that had crept up his thighs with a mockingly indignant glare. He butted the last of his smoke and shook his head in feigned despair.

“You know what your problem is, don’t you Katze?”

Katze threw the near empty pack across the desk. “No, but I am sure you’re gonna tell me…Twenty-six, Riki..”

“You need to get laid.”

Katze blinked, finding no humor in the jab as he abruptly rose and reached for his coat already slung across the desk.

“Time’s up. Are you coming?” and pocketed the disked report due, before heading for the door.

The swiftness of movement as Riki leapt over the couch and the hand that gripped his bicep and swung him around, made clear why Riki had been and still, in spirit, remained Bison’s official leader.

“Katze? I was joking, okay…relax. Fuck, what’s wrong with you?”

The hold brooked no argument, rather like a certain Elite, much despised by both but for entirely different reasons.

“Talk to me.”

Katze glared at the hand and it was removed. “As a point of interest, been there, done that, Wiseass and am none the worse for wear.”

Riki grinned from ear to ear and gave the Black Market dealer’s back a resounding thump while waggling dark brows.

“Yeah baby! Soooooooo…did you like it? Who with? Do I know him? Is he hot?”

It was a long and level look Katze gave to his former Master’s only known vice.

Riki’s bright lewd smile slowly faded with Katze’s furtive nod and the guilt he saw in those golden eyes.

“Oh fuck no…no….no…Oh God no, not him! He’s been sniffing around you forever! So that’s why… Don’t think Iason hasn’t noticed.”

The red-head’s heart plummeted in fear. “That’s why, what?”

Now the shoe was very much on the other foot, as Riki’s dark eyes closed. “Raoul’s at the penthouse, right now. What the fuck have you done, man?”

Katze quailed. No, the day could not be any worse, those clouds again, no beauty in sight - retribution more like. Not even the fading scent of Admon upon his hands offered respite, when the last being he ever wanted to see on this day was in the offing.

~~~BMR~~~


No one knew the restive qualities of grooming one’s hair to a glistening sheen, as the brush, a tool, rhythmically stroked peace into a being’s soul.

His Master had appreciated this simple task that had sensual qualities all its own. It was part and parcel of their nightly ritual, their secret and their unspoken form of communication. It had taken a year to bed his Master with mixed results. In the end he wasn’t wanted, another was. He stood in lieu, but this was acceptable. He benefitted with safety, sanctuary and a purpose beyond the usual Pets of his Master’s station, who had only the choice of performance.

He was loathed by them in secret. Impotent loathing was perhaps far more challenging to a soul bred to conquer. It took myriad forms, the chipping away of the trust that had formed between servant and master and eventually they did succeed.

Admon would not allow this again. His call this time was not optimal. There was just so much a mongrel could do for him, but he would succeed and he would find it and his Master again. A first inkling, but why with Katze, a genuine mongrel, at least in appearance, but not in conduct, nothing more than a Furniture, well a former one anyway.

It should not have happened. This link, this tether that had only been with his Master, the one gift he had left him. Well, at least he had a name now, however, Sir Raoul Am, Chief Medical Officer. Green…he was the green. He was the source of confusion, possible weakness sensed within Katze. He was fear, but mostly he was lust, requited and yet not.

Ruby eyes peered at the finished product in the mirror and found no fault. He had an hour, perhaps two now that he was suitable. A touch more of scent would be the only requirement. Katze was very receptive to fragrance.

Those hours would be spent fruitfully in recall, beyond the reach of the other voices within the salons and the feast of hormonal discharges that were heightened with the coming of night as the other denizens prepared for their duties with the helps of narcotics to liven their moods.

He had need of none such. His task would be pleasurable, but first he needed to observe the new entity, brash, vibrant but deceptively wise. The aura was atypically bright, resilient, full of life, young, definitely and cunning, oh so cunning. It was with his new Master and somehow related to the Erratic One, who sat nursing stout in the bar.

Admon smiled, enjoying the feel of the carpeting beneath his feet as he headed for the port that led to the main hall. He wasn’t strictly disobeying, his Master, Kato had to be apprised of the preferred libations for the evening meal and if he happened to run into the Master and the owner of that bright, scintillating aura, so be it.

~~~BMR~~~


Katze glared. “You want him to kill me, is that it?”

Not in the least mollified by Riki’s assurance that he would follow him home. He just wanted to ‘hang’ for a bit, maybe catch some grub, and check out the new items on display. Bullshit of course. He wanted to encounter Guy and test the waters.

“Not leaving,.” Riki responded casually around a yawn, a stretch and the unselfconscious adjustment of a too tight inseam that only served to enhance his package.

Katze’s already hair trigger nerves were not soothed by his petulance. His own mind imagining the inevitable consequences the meeting might entail.

“Fuck, these are tight, Iason’s such a perv. Just don’t tell him, already. You worry too much, Red.”

“Idiot! Don’t you think he already knows, exactly where you are? Those ‘Asswipes’ also work for me on occasion and you bet your tight, soon to be punished ass, he is counting off the minutes and expects you to return with me. I don’t need this fucking agro today,” the dealer hissed, turning on his heels and headed for the stairs, hoping against hope the diffident brat would follow, once he made sure the coast was clear.

Entirely unperturbed by the display of fury - Katze was at heart a nervous Nelly, Riki craned his long elegant neck, taking full inventory, or at least what he could see, of his rear in the hall’s mirrored surface with a frown. “Am I walking funny again? Tell the truth.”

With an exasperated sigh, Katze grimaced, amber eyes scanning the floor below. “No! Okay no! God, Kid, I don’t have time for this, shit. Let’s go. I don’t know where the fuck he is, but we can leave now.”

Riki huffed and eased long tanned fingers down the seam once more. “Like you give a shit. Like to see how you’d walk if you had a fuckin’ seam ridin’ your crack raw.”

The red-head waved a long elegant hand impatiently, “TMI, Riki. You should be use to that by now. Get over here!”

Katze was definitely no fun.“Fuuuuuuunny. Whatever, I told you…I’m…”

A deep long suffering sigh escaped full lips, just as a fluid, silken shadow caught the dark mongrel’s peripheral vision. ”Oooooooooooh…heeeeeelloooooooo. Mmmmmmmm, now that’s more like it. Come here gorgeous. Don’t be shy.”


Katze turned abruptly and followed the playful yet shark-like, gleam in Riki’s eyes as they devoured Admon. The red-head sighed, taking in the suitably demure gait, so well practiced.

“Lets go, Kiddo. Leave him alone.”

Riki waved dismissively at his friend and approached the exquisitely attired creature. He was almost a head taller, but somehow managed to appear small and fragile beneath the mongrel’s curious gaze; definitely a player who knew his craft. Ain’t nothin’ screamed ex-Pet about his demeanor – very tasty.

"My, My... and you are?"

“My name is Admon, Admon of Karin, Sir.”

Bison’s former leader nodded his approval at Katze. “I see you’re classin’ up the joint with this one.”

Admon’s eyes remained lowered beneath thick lashes as Riki walked slowly around him. His Master was not pleased by the open display of curiosity on his friend’s part. Admon preened within. This new emotion he sensed from his Master boded well. For want of better words; human emotions being sometimes confusing, Katze was feeling proprietary. He would up the ante, test his theory.

“How may I be of service, Sir?”

An impish grin played about full lips, recognizing the thinly veiled come on for what it was. "Well for starters..." Riki eyed the flawless creature in the floor length robe with pursed lips. Katze would be pissed if he touched, but he really liked the robe, Iason would look better in it though.

Katze pinched the bridge of his nose. "RIKI! I’m warning you."

Seriously, Raoul might have had a point. The resurrection of the Dark Mongrel was nothing but trouble in a perfectly lethal package. Everything was a game to the Kid. He never knew when to quit. That same devil may care attitude had once cost him his life.

"Does my ass look alright in these, Admon?"

~~~BMR~~~


The silence was palpable within the vehicle, so much so, that Admon felt entirely out of place at the beginning of the journey. He had been ushered into the car unceremoniously and literally plopped across from the Black Market dealer, who proceeded to ignore him for the better part of their voyage. Katze had gone through half a pack by now as he tapped the mobile and signed with his stylus various documentation of clear import.

The Graces had been kind in his Master’s chosen vice, leaving only the vague scent of cloves upon his raiment – not displeasing to the senses. In fact, rather enticing when mingled with his chemistry of clean skin and that distinctive unguent favored.

“Amber Lust.”

Katze blinked in the darkened rear of the vehicle, slowly focusing on that exquisite countenance across from him. Admon glanced shyly in his direction, awaiting permission to speak further.


“Pardon?”


A wave of strawberry blonde hair shielded those expressive ruby eyes. Admon leaned in, cocking his head to one side and sniffed delicately at the perplexed male, whose mind had been elsewhere. “You’re choice of scent. It is Amber Lust.”

The red-head eased back instinctively into the plush leather seating. Too close. What the fuck had possessed him to bring the damn creature along anyway? It wasn’t as if Riki was actually interested? The kid had it hard for Iason, in more ways than one, regardless of protestations to the contrary. He had come crawling back when it counted.

“Yeah, what of it?” Why was his voice so defensive? Why did he suddenly know bringing Admon was a huge mistake and still he brought him?

His agile, logical mind knew better though. He had caught Admon in a lie earlier. That shared vision, the pain, the Ruby’s portrait secreted in that alcove where no one would see. Oh Admon had lied alright, it was just to ascertain why. Katze knew there had to be a connection to Raoul Am, and if, just if, it gave the Black Market dealer an edge, the risk would be worth it.

That shy smile again on soft pouty lips. “It is pleasing to my senses, my Master.”

Katze eyes narrowed as the familiar sight of Eos Tower, hoved into view, before a respectful tap on the partition announced their arrival. “We’re here, Mister Katze.”

Admon gracefully adjusted himself, folding silk across his arm, preparing himself. Speculative amber watched the elegance of movement with a secretive smile as the door was opened and he exited first. Without thought, he beckoned the Karinese, extending his own hand, taking Admon’s in a steely grip.

“Be silent. Observe. Do not embarrass me.”

Admon inclined his head, acknowledging the command but not relinquishing the pro-offered hand as they walked silently into the cavernous outer complex.


~~~BMR~~~

Kato beamed at his handiwork, well pleased as he stroked the crease out of the silken sheets. Now they rested like a still lake atop the bed. Fresh pillows and the 'necessaries' set aside for Mr. Katze’s convenience.

All that was left to attend was the meal, which, as always he would see to personally with the added benefit of his own late night feast in his quiet, neat little room all his own.

Life was good.

Co-ordination was everything, right down to the lighting, he mused with a critical artistic eye. Lightly he passed his hand across the control, adjusting, adjusting until the sheets took on a rich, warm hue, the warmest of crimson that suitably matched Admon’s attire and what was left of those petals, now strewn across the bedding; simply perfect.

Not a virulent red but very much like that flower, like Admon. No co-incidence, that Admon. Such a rare variety of peony was the Admon, his little joke. He wondered vaguely, if his Boss knew the significance in the choice of flower that day.

Kato chuckled, imagining the expression in those beautiful cognac eyes upon discovery of his clever little secret. Time enough for the Master to tweak to the supposed co-incidence when he found out. It was rare to get one over on Mr. Katze.

The bent little man continued to smile, his mind happily filled with purpose as he opened the back balcony doors and looked up at the newly rising stars above.

“You shall drink stars tonight, Mister Katze,” he murmured as if in prayer. Kato’s eyes briefly looking down open the dark movement of the furtive throng who had begun their revelry. There but for grace, he thought, as his eyes sought and found an elderly being who stumbled their way into the adjoining building.

He sighed.

Another night would begin soon. He too was safe, if for only this night.


~~~BMR~~~


He did not need his empathic abilities to feel the evident and all encompassing derision as they walked through the busy atrium toward the bank of elevators. They had been a source of prurient observation, whispers and not so veiled titters.


Admon observed the thin film of sweat atop Katze’s upper lip. Worry coiled off Katze in ever expanding eddies not readily apparent in his impassive expression. He was worried about his presence, or more accurately, how to explain it without engendering the ire of the confused, diffident one.


Silently, security protocols were observed. The laser scanned Katze’s iris allowing them entre to the single lift authorized to take them to the penthouse.


He had to calm him. It was his duty. Admon relinquished the hand guiding him and turned to face his Master while they rapidly ascended.

With a flourish of sleeve, Admon dabbed delicately at the errant moisture with a length of cloth secreted within the voluminous fold at his wrist.


Dark pupils in honey irises held Admon’s gaze with momentary suspicion. before the vaguest suggestion of a smile quirking well formed lips in unspoken gratitude.


“Just follow my lead, okay?”


Admon bowed, adjusted his sleeves and elegantly folding long arms within, assuming a deferential distance within the confines of the elevator. Trust he knew required time. It was the smallest of demonstrations that best served to engendered cordiality, union in those circumspect of nature.


The doors opened upon the quiet pale gray hallway.


Admon’s toes curled in pleasure at the feel of the thick plush carpeting beneath his feet.


He felt observed. In fact, the entire exchange had been, unbeknownst to Katze of Ceres. Sometimes declarations of war were best when subtle, making an unwitting opponent green with envy.

~~~BMR~~~