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 – Mature Content

Parts: WIP – 15 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"For Ainzfern, A_ngua, & Bahen for their intellect, wisdom, sensuality and unstinting support."


Chapter 15 of 25 – A Fool’s Errand (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

A muffled groan of blissful surrender escaped Katze’s lips. He was lost as long, strong fingers caressed, smacked then grasped his butt cheeks spreading them and slowly lowering the mongrel to meet the velvety, slick head that nudged his entrance with teasing thrusts of agile hips.

Katze gasped, shivering in anticipation as he crouched lower over Raoul’s hips in open invitation and a dare as their eyes met through burning droplets of sweat. He coiled his aching limb around a broad, sweat slicked back for purchase, as his thighs strained in heavenly duress.

“Your knees are going to give out.” Raoul chuckled breathlessly as the headboard protested behind his back as Katze leaned forward and took Raoul’s parted lips, effectively ending the discourse on positioning. God the feel of those hot fingertips gliding down his back, sliding down his sides and stilling his movement, however temporarily.

Katze smiled secretively as he continued to ravage full pale lips and thrust his own aching cock against a hot wet abdomen of smooth rippling muscles. Just right, he thought absently as he prepared to strike.

The scent of sweat, the musk of sex, and muffled oaths of conquest had proven impossible to resist as their teeth clashed and Katze impaled himself fully on Raoul’s hot, thick shaft. It burnt, like an ancient throbbing brand within, sending hot sparks of light behind his closed lids with each punishing upward thrust.

Raoul moaned, amazed he could enjoy being the object of lust. Oh yes, the object of fear, the object of respect, but not of want. Not the searing need he had seen briefly in those expressive depths as they closed and a grimace of pained pleasure overtook the near flawless countenance before him.

He was so open in his passion, but was it a passion for passions sake? Would Admon have done in equal measure to release this being who undulated above him with near wild abandon?

Raoul’s lids shuttered as his eyes secretively caressed the supple form above him and preened inwardly. Katze was exquisite in this mode, an animal at its bestial peak, sinking deeper into his own halcyon bliss, oblivious to the picture he presented of warm, flushed skin that begged to be licked, smooth graceful movement and that proud cock sent a renewed quicksilver heat through the Elite as he firmly grasped Katze’s hips and stilled them.

The mongrel fell forward, warm harsh breath fanning the salty skin of the Elite’s neck as Katze began to suck the distended vein at Raoul’s neck. The Elite shivered, unused to his own body’s reactions to the touch. He stretched languidly enjoying the feel of that impertinent mouth, one arm clasping the limp wet body atop his while still intimately joined.

“Why?” Katze rasped against his neck in protest as an unexpected palm barely grasped his much neglected cock sending pleasurable shivers through him.

“Do you have any idea, just how many sensations one can create with a single touch, just here,” Raoul demonstrated, his slicked thumb toying with the mongrel’s over sensitized head.

Katze shuddered, willing the Elite to continue, feeling the subtle movement of an index finger, tracking the vein on the underside of his cock to its root.

“And here…” Raoul murmured teasingly against a damp neck. He licked moist salty skin, shifting the mongrel’s focus once more with repeated undulations of his hips, receiving for his sensual assault a very satisfying guttural whimper of protest and annoyance.

Raoul noted with satisfaction the mongrel’s little heart was beating out of his chest. It might be construed as unusual punishment, but it was infinitely more pleasurable to prolong the tryst this way he decided. After all, Katze was his toy and he would be allowed to come again, only when Raoul saw fit.

It was so odd when thoughts occurred, he mused, remembering the offensive creature’s offer and in front of his face too. It still irked, the familiarity of that Admon creature cupping his mongrel’s face and smiling at him in that clawing, fawning, possessive way.

Katze could feel the tension in Raoul’s body rising as taut, warm muscles became steel beneath velvet and the loose grip around his cock tightened almost painfully; fuck but this one was batshit crazy when aroused.

What in hell was he thinking of now? His cock was buried deep, a burning pleasure of pulsing warmth within a body unused to this manner of invasion and he was still being a total asshole in his own right. What more did he want, Katze thought, feeling the tension subside by degree within the body beneath him and the sticky palm once again begin to pump his cock, growing slick again from pre-cum.

Thank Jupiter for small mercies, Katze thought gritting his teeth, adjusting to Raoul’s renewed, near frantic pounding of his flesh. Something was wrong, but he would and could deal with it later, once he could stand that is.

Right now was all that mattered, he mused closing his eyes. He was lost again to the deafening beat of his own heart within his ears and the harsh mesmerizing cry of Raoul’s deep resonant voice in release as the Elite clasped his body tightly, while relinquishing control.

With each shuddered moan uttered by the Elite, Katze was drawn closer to his own inexorable surrender. That mouth and tongue sought his once more as wet, pulsing surges coated his already drenched channel and still frenzied hips bucked, skewering him upon the quivering girth that possessively impaled him.

~~~BMR~~~


Breathlessly, they sighed.

Katze moaned, but differently this time. His arm was so fucked, despite his best efforts. The limb could not move from its current perch.

With an apologetic grin, Katze looking down into hooded eyes. Raoul had done nothing aside from breathe for the last minute or so, his eyes never leaving that of the mongrel’s.

Katze had to admit it was becoming uncomfortable that meditative gaze as both strived to regain their composure.

It wasn’t hateful, there was still definite lust, but it was…well, pensive, cautious even.

Raoul jogged his hips lightly, breaking eye contact as he eased the limb surprisingly gently off his shoulder and clasped the long fingered hand, examining it.

“You have beautiful hands. They were not designed for ‘wet work’, I believe is the term, you mongrels use. Do not make it a habit, your bones are fragile.”

Katze chuckled, easing himself off Raoul’s now flaccid, but still formidable cock with a grimace. Yeah, he would be feeling that for awhile. Twice for fucks sake, what had he been thinking?

“You need to stop hangin’ around here, Sir Am. You’re pickin’ up all kinds of bad language,” the redhead smiled with genuine amusement as he straightened his back at the side of the bed and stood, rather stiffly. The tell tale flood, as anticipated, coursing thickly down his inner thighs.

Too self-conscious to turn and meet Sir Am’s gaze, Katze headed for the bathroom with what he hoped was dignity in a less than graceful stride.

Prurient and decidedly pleased green eyes followed the delectable blushing rump that still bore distinctive impressions of his fingertips. Lazily the Elite’s eyes roamed further down as his lips curved into a smug smile.

Those lean muscled inner thighs were moist with his essence too, as they should be. His own sphincter twitched.

Raoul’s brow rose, amazed at the rapidity of his own body’s response and recovery; he pursed his lips, wondering why the sight of Katze’s buttocks had caused that particular reaction. No, by his gait alone, the little mongrel could not stand another impromptu romp.

He eyed himself mildly amused at his own prowess. There were other means of sating the urge he thought, hearing the shower stall called into action, Katze was finicky about what went into his mouth.

A quick shower was in order and perhaps just perhaps, he could call on the mongrel’s old profession just this once in tending to his hygienic needs.


~~~BMR~~~


Donovan was white with fury as he towered over the drug dealer who continued to laugh to himself, splayed as he was in the adjoining chaise next to the bed, covered in the girl’s blood.

They hadn’t had to have a lockdown in over three years - three fucking years. The cleaning crew was on their way, but he had to call the Boss. He had to decide. If it was up to him, the fucker would go the same way; an eye for an eye.

The bodyguard looked back at the gore filled bed. She looked so small, naked and helpless, her blank stare leveled at the ceiling, her mouth agape in a silent scream, heard by no one.

Eviscerated with clinical ease, a minor black singe around the gaping wound made by her own weapon; a weapon she thought would protect but instead had been turned against her.

Lockdown was the only choice to prevent panic.

Donovan tapped the com by the door and the lights flicked in the room and all the salons adjoining as security locks were automatically engaged, even on the first level, where patrons still drank, ogled those on the dais and remained oblivious to the horror upstairs.

A quiet rap at the door and he opened it, revealing three dark clad, masked men who entered the room with a sepulchral air about them, the last of which was given space as a long thin box hovered before him as if by its own volition.

The drug dealer’s dazed eyes grew wide, understanding their purpose, but maintained his silence. They could do nothing without the scarred mongrel and he had him in the bag. They were both men of commerce, kindred spirits.

Everything had a price, even a minor indiscretion such as this.

~~~BMR~~~


Katze shivered beneath the welcomed cold onslaught of cascading droplets, clearing his fogged mind as he leaned heavily against the wall, regaining a proper perspective as the lights blinked out twice.

A lockdown. Would this fucking day never end?

Efficiently he cleaned himself, aware of the shadowed presence beyond the stall, but he didn’t have time for the Elite, the flickering lights took precedence.

On cue his arm began to throb in earnest.

Just great. He closed the lever and quickly headed to the vanity drawer, extracting a long tube and regarded his own sodden profile as he removed the protective cap of the medicinal narcotic and pressed the plunger into his bicep with a sigh.

“What is that?” Raoul demanded, retrieving the quickly disposed of empty filament in the adjoining basin.

“Nothing, it just takes care of pain.” Katze answered tersely, regarding the Elite in the mirror as he quickly dried himself, finally having use of both arms. “I don’t have time to explain, Sir Am. I only ask that you remain here. It would be best.”

Raoul nodded, mildly curious at the turn of events.

The lights flickered again. Donovan wanted to know where he was.

Padding to the com, Katze spoke. “Coming… which salon?”

Raoul’s speculative gaze turned to the mongrel as he held the thin vile – not addictive. He would keep his own counsel for the moment, if only because of the implacably eerie expression on the mongrel’s face as he spoke in hushed quiet coded speech to his own number one.

Katze’s expression brooked no argument.

How odd that he could notice the firm set of that stubborn jaw line and the redhead’s thinned lips. Katze was angry. Warm cognac eyes had grown decidedly cold and resolute as a white silken shirt was retrieved from the closet, before quickly being discarded for one of crimson instead.

The dealer regarded his reflection and brushed damp locks with nervous fingers, uncaring that the angry line of scar was prominent along his jaw line with his hair slicked away from a broad intelligent forehead.

The Elite stood his ground, simply waiting as the com was snapped off. There were times Katze did not look quite the mongrel he was; perplexing.

“Well, Katze?”

The redhead did not turn, preferring to regard the Elite in the mirror adjoining the closet as he buttoned his shirt and sighed.

“What we call lockdown. Just a precautionary measure, nothing for you to worry about, a client overstepped.” Katze answered tersely, opening a dark paneled drawer whose contents caused Raoul to pause.

The drawer was deep, its surface akin to black velvet. What he saw upon the smooth dark material was a variety of lethal weaponry, some legal and some decidedly not. Raoul continued to watch with fascination as long tapered fingers glided over the metallic surfaces, almost lovingly.

Raoul’s eyes narrowed uncomfortably aware that in this bedroom a former oasis replete with the softest of silks, velvet and muted sensual tones, also lay death if its sole occupant chose.

So much for the sybaritic dreams of sensory paradise, designed for a good fuck. The man was an enigma; a quietly sensual one, but an enigma nonetheless.

Those long, delicate fingers selected finally and pocketed an additional clip as an after thought.

“Please stay here, Sir Am. Discretion is everything in my world. It would serve neither of us to bring you into this. His Excellency would never forgive me and that would make your current indulgence as good as dead. Do you understand?”

A cold foreboding chill forming where his spine had been, this too was Katze. Raoul heard from a great distance the bedroom door hush closed as his mind wandered.

Those silent feet had left, along with the man- the conundrum, the entity whose warm clean scent still remained in the darkened room, leaving the Elite decidedly cold with his absence.

“Current indulgence, indeed,” Raoul whispered in the silent room, retrieving the white silk shirt then tossing it aside in anger.

He found the control for the monitors secreted beneath the pillows and surfed, determined to find the salon in question. He would have answers.

~~~BMR~~~


Rather large confetti, at least that what it looked to be at first until Raoul managed the focus, bringing the image forward and adjusting the frame to his satisfaction. Ahh it was foreign paper currency that fluttered about the room and slowly made its way to the faux wooden floor at the mongrel’s feet.

No takers apparently.

The Elite’s already fixed gaze had taken in the darkly clad masked men situated about the small room and Katze’s No. 1 strategically positioned at the closed door, baring any hurried attempt at exit.

Raoul approved, though a golden brow quirked in annoyance at the device he held.

Jupiter be praised but he still could not find the node that allowed for sound on the remote. It was entirely too vexing, when the cameras focused on the club’s main floor, the bar, the kitchen, the back alley and sundry other spaces had full audio – peculiar.

Pale lips lifted at their corners, a new thought having struck. “You clever, clever little bastard,” the Blondie chuckled.

The lack of sound was intentional. It was entirely in character for the mongrel, not to mention technical skill set to subvert the system for privacy; a warped sense of honor, even.

Raoul pursed his lips. There was a secondary possibility. A great deal more could be garnered from quiet observation, particularly of the salons, where the words spoken would oft times be repetitive, trite. Words by their very nature were subjective and undoubtedly the dialogue would have been boring. This was the point, the Elite concluded. Here Katze would only be looking for danger to his stable, nothing more.

Fascinating, in fact it was more than fascinating to watch the little creature in his milieu and the almost feline quality presented as he flung the flailing blood spattered man back down into the chaise while passing him and moved gracefully to the body, lying prone.

Expressionless, it was the only word it. That pale, handsome countenance remained expressionless, taking in the full measure of the violence, the gore and the glistening stream of gut below her sternum, exposed for all to see.

It was those frightened sightless eyes that seemed to draw the Black Market dealer most. With infinite care he bent over the body and adjusted her hair about the still beautiful face, caressing the lukewarm skin of her cheek, dabbing lightly with his sleeve at a bloody smudge that marred her cheek.

Gently he closed her lids and stood erect murmuring something only those within the room were privy to. It seems to have caught the drugged patron’s attention however as he got on his knees and began to plead in abject terror with the mongrel’s approach.

“Bit late to plead now, dear boy, the deed is done.” Raoul tut tuted. No dignity at all, but then, what could one expect from their kind.

A visceral charge raced through Raoul’s own veins as he noted the color returning to Katze’s cheeks and those formerly opaque citrine eyes begin to glow with a feral gleam.

The redhead had made a decision. He was growing easier to read.

The Elite recognized the set of the stubborn chin, the wide stance and the ubiquitous smoke reached for within the pocket of his trousers. Oh he had decided alright, but what?

Katze beckoned the subject under observation and casually lit his smoke. The man in question stood on shaky legs, wiping his sweating brow and cautiously approached the mongrel.

Predatory green eyes grew bright in anticipation of the coming floor show. The surprisingly swift movement of the mongrel as he brought the man to his knees once more and the grace with which those long tapered fingers latching on to the patron’s neck was a dance in and of itself.

Katze whispered something within the man’s ear causing him to extend his sweating palm. The patron grimaced as the lit smoke was stubbed out and burnt his flesh.

Raoul chided himself for being moderately aroused by the sight.

He was screaming now as Donovan’s back blocked the sight of the camera. The Elite growled in genuine annoyance and almost as if heard the bodyguard moved back out of frame, revealing a blood spattered face and eyes reminiscent of the blank terror in the girl’s eyes.

Katze did not bother to close his, merely releasing the body to the floor and flicked his bloody hand sending a curvilinear spatters to the walls. Donovan handed him a towel. They watched the cleaning crew retrieve the body, placing it next to the girl and rolled them both in dark cloth for disposal.

Watching as both Katze and Donovan went over the room with a fine tooth comb, Raoul paid attention the body language of both men as they made note of anomalous items for removal.

They were efficient. The Elite looked at the time stamp below the display. Exactly seven minutes as a new set of three came in, one of which was the Kato individual and began the arduous task of scrubbing down what remained. Raoul hadn’t even noticed when both bodies had been placed in the box, along with the strewn cash, the clothing and incidentals of the former client in question.

Seven minutes; would that his surgical team showed such acumen.


~~~BMR~~~


Katze gazed up the stairwell that led to his quarters and rubbed tired eyes. His face felt sticky. The scent of coppery blood seemed to be everywhere on him, dogging his steps. He would need another shower.

He could hear the driving beat of the club below and laughter, oblivious laughter to the death that surrounded them, but then, death was the way of Ceres. Two more made no difference, except with perspective and having done the deed yourself willingly and or by attrition.

His hand began to shake as it took the banister. It was wearing off already and though not painful, it was just a matter of time before he felt the additional damage done while enraged. He checked his mobile com affixed to his belt.

Still eight hours before the Auction and with luck he could get a few hours of sleep, at least that had gone right.

Climbing slowly Katze planned the following day, looking for items overlooked, possible unaccounted for dangers – nothing stood out. Reaching the blank wall that shielded his private domain, he automatically keyed the numbers for entry.

The code would be changed tomorrow. Fuck but he didn’t need Raoul making little visits uninvited. It pained him just how much he enjoyed the Elite. The Blondie was nothing if not quixotic and unfortunately, the very top of the food chain, where he held no power, unlike Midas.

He wasn’t Riki and did not wish to play with fire, only ashes would be left of what remained of his soul at this rate, with luck the Elite’s interest would soon peak and he would move on, saving them both from the inevitable fall.

Katze blinked…Admon’s warning about an imagined fall from Grace. He shook his head and entered, closing the port behind him, reassured as the lock re-engaged as he slid down the cool, smooth surface.

Jupiter but he abhorred complications, he laughed softly to himself, wiping the unnoticed tears that had been streaming down his face. It wasn’t blood, it had been tears. He regarded his fingers in shock, bringing his knees up and began to rock in silent pain.

He was safe now, here away from the others. No one would see. No one would know. He was Katze of Ceres, king of all he surveyed, untouchable amongst the mongrel horde.

“Stupid little bitch…don’t keep it, if you’re not gonna use it,” Katze continued to rock with closed eyes unable to stop the floodgates that had opened…”Stupid little bitch…stupid, stupid, little bitch…”

Feather light was the touch of warm hands that touched his bowed shoulders and smoothly glided down his arms, clasping his hands.

Katze recoiled from the unexpected touch and blinked away tears in horror as he wiped his nose upon a bloody sleeve.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Raoul said reproachfully, yanking him upright with his good arm. “You’re an absolute mess, little mongrel. Come with me.”


The redhead continued to blink in shock as he was hauled through the bedroom once more. “I’m not in the mood, Sir Am.”

Raoul turned abruptly and pushed him onto the foot of the bed, glaring at him down a long patrician nose. “Neither am I, you egotistical little shit.”

Katze blinked in open consternation at the tone and the words spoken.

“Just look at the state of you and you dare to call yourself their leader?” Raoul barked in a derisive tone. “Get in the shower and clean yourself up this instant.”

He wasn’t up to the fight evident in those sparkling, challenging green eyes and so, as always he did what he was told, carelessly toeing off shoes, discarding clothing and wishing by all that was merciful that he would drown beneath the pulsing heat.

Death did not come in the steamy room, but silence did as he leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and allowed the tears to continue with some semblance of privacy amidst the running cold stream.

Katze hadn’t really noticed when the water became cool, then lukewarm and then hot as stiff muscles thanked their maker and a warm hard body rested against his silently for a moment.

The redhead sighed, giving up all pretense of caring about what would come next. So the fucker had a thing for showers. With luck it would be quick, but it wasn’t.

Strong fingers massaged the tense muscles of his back, causing the mongrel to release a pent up sigh as they wended their way to the base of his spine. Warm breath teased the nap of his neck gently. Katze stilled as those dexterous fingers released him and the scent of his favourite soap was poured into large palms and carefully massaged into his scalp.

Katze turned in the loose embrace as suds burnt his open eyes and he looked up into the stoically handsome face while his temples were kneaded as if in afterthought.

Raoul damp mane was tossed indignantly as he glared back but continued.

“I told you, you are a mess.”

The redhead began to chuckle. “Use your nails. I like the feel of nails, Sir Am.”

An undignified snort, punctuated the request while Raoul wondered briefly, who had done this for the mongrel in the past. Progress was being made. He would give the mongrel that.

Those two beats had not occurred once this night in using his honorific.

Author’s Note

Happy Holidays!

ElegantPaws