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 – 17 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

Chapter 17 of 25 –The Wheels of Fate (Post OVA)


Raoul awoke to the quiet clacking of keys beyond the darkened bedroom. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim cobalt blue shimmer that seeped through the crack of the door from the outer office. He looked about him suspiciously but found nothing wanting except his clothing, cleaned, ordered and where appropriate folded awaiting its owner on the divan at the foot of the bed.

His acute hearing picked up the familiar reverberations of the mongrel’s quiet speech and another all too familiar voice, his bodyguard. Raoul stretched languorously cocking one ear to follow the conversation, monosyllabic as it was. Pale lips curved in a half smile as his eyes cast to the open bathroom door, where a small crouched figure stood in nervous readiness.

“Kato is it?”

The elderly man bowed deeply. Raoul noted it took him a fraction too long to raise his bent form fully to an upright position.

“Would the esteemed guest care to take his bath now, or would he prefer some manner of refreshment first?”

Excellent training, but he would expect nothing less of the mongrel in his little kingdom.

“Tea is preferable, strong and black. You may fetch it now and have Katze bring it through when ready.”

“Of course, Sir,” Kato inclined his head, obsequiously, “Will there be anything else?”

“No. That will suffice, Kato, run along.” Raoul said dismissively, moderately miffed that the conversation continued with barely a pause as the small round figure shuffled off to attend his appointed task, quietly closing the door behind him.

Across the room, the chronometer said three. He had slept for two hours and hadn’t even noticed when Katze had arisen. Peculiar, he was by nature a light sleeper.

~~~BMR~~~

Sharp eyes flicked in the darkness over the ghostlike mask of the Boss’ patrician face as Kato silently left.

To Donovan’s discerning gaze Katze looking every bit his street moniker in the pale reflective light of the monitor – Subzero Scarface. Nothing more than a predatory wraith whose amber eyes danced across the screen with growing interest as he lit another smoke and inhaled deeply.

“You can stop staring any time now, Donovan. Not up for discussion. Just make sure the limo is ready for his Highness. Don’t need the grief of having to explain why a Syndicate vehicle is here at this hour, well before the Auction.”

Donovan shook his head, releasing his breath. He missed nothing. There were times he just didn’t get the Boss and fuck but he wanted to know, but could not ask in his current mood. “Got it covered. No one would dare.”

“In earshot anyway,” Katze snorted, looking up briefly for confirmation. “Gimme a day, okay? We’ll talk, after the Auction.”

The bodyguard cracked his knuckles finally satisfied and nodded. He could wait. “I have your back, even in this. You must have a reason to take such a risk, Boss.”

Keen citrine eyes, the coldest shade of sunlight, caste with blue looked up through a haze of smoke. “Damned if I know what it is.”

A smile was a rare thing on Donovan’s severely handsome face, but it had the ability to light it nonetheless. “Ahh real simple Boss, he’s hot.”

“Leave. Got things to do.”

“Oooooohhh yeah, I just bet you do, Boss Man.”


~~~BMR~~~


Raoul started at the loud clank as an object was clearly thrown in the outer office connecting with the metallic port that lead to the hallway. Irritating these sudden noises, particularly since he had just managed to settle into the halcyon warmth of the tub and had been quietly contemplating the merits of a light snooze before tea; gratifying bouts of sex apparently made one decidedly indolent.

Absently he wondered where his promised tea had gotten to as he sniffed the pleasantly scented unguents placed to hand for his convenience. He would have words with the little minion, for his own good. So long a wait was unacceptable and why was Katze not dancing attendance?

All far too vexing.

~~~BMR~~~


Kato scuttled through the port, his gnarled hands holding the antique silver tea tray so rarely used by the dealer, another acquisition secured based on beauty alone.

Amber eyes scanned the delicate setting and the covered plate before returning his gaze to the screen. “I can see where I stand around here.”

The manservant clicked his tongue in censure. “Is it my fault, Mr. Katze that finally, there is someone who merits the extra effort?”

Katze snorted. “Good luck with that. NOTHING pleases them as a matter of course.”

Kato ignored his Master and placed the tray on the desk, fussing with the linen and sundry, awaiting his turn to speak with a pinched expression. He had even changed into his formal attire and brushed his few remaining strands of hair – too priceless.

The dealer rolled his eyes and sighed. “Kato, you might as well learn now since it’s likely the current guest might make the odd appearance, just don’t bother beyond the necessary. Don’t even think of using this as an excuse to go on another of your frequent spending sprees.”

Kato sniffed and glared at his Boss accusingly.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Kato. You are a thousand credits over for housekeeping this month alone. I won’t dare to think how long it took you to polish that shit, just to serve him some tepid tea, which I might add you have never done for me and it’s my set.”

“You don’t drink tea as a rule, Sir.” The manservant mumbled unhappily and eyed the broken statuary by the door, still curious as to why Donovan had been laughing as he passed him in the hallway.

I’m not deaf, Kato, and I don’t appreciate the reference to pearls before swine.”

To his credit, Kato looked suitably chastised and pursed wizened lips, patiently folding his hands before him with a sharp inclination of his balding well coifed head. “My apologies, Mr. Katze but while we are on the topic of the undeserving...”

Katze eyes narrowed, acknowledging the veiled slight but letting it go. The man had been busy tonight, far too busy for one of his age with the cleanup. He would allow it this once. It really wasn’t part of his protocol to take care of detritus related to wet work.

“Go on…”

“Admon is proving worrisome and changeable.”

In no way mollified by the sudden change of subject or the seriousness of Kato’s expression, Katze’s gaze grew distant. “Explain changeable?”

“Dangerous. I fear we might have misjudged him.”

“How?”

A pensive expression verging on genuine fear entered those dark, worn eyes as he weighed his words.

“We, no I have misjudged his true nature. He is more than he appears and capable of…” the old man instinctively clenched his hand against his chest and gulped audibly. “I believe he might be capable of physically harming another, perhaps even a client. He has a vindictive nature, shrouded in politesse.”

Katze stood abruptly, his long citrine robe flowing behind him as he rounded the desk and grasped Kato’s shoulders, willing him to look up. “Did he threaten you? Tell me the truth. I won’t have him threatening you, Kato.”

A bemused expression entered those tired, weary eyes. “Not in so many words, but I fear him, if truth be told. I fear for you, Mr. Katze and what most do not realize about you and your true nature.

The dealer lowered his head, grasping the flaccid chin and raised it gently. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I can deal with anything.”

“He may…may…attempt to harm you in some way. Admon has an agenda.”

Amber eyes softened briefly. “I know. Let’s make it work for us; enemies closer and all that?”

Kato looked up into discerning amber that quickly changed upon observation back to cold, unreadable citrine, shutting out his attendant.

“But you are my charge, Mister Katze. I must protect you, always.”

Katze inclined his head toward the tray. “It’s gonna be freezing cold by the time he gets it. Go do your thing. God knows, you didn’t get all spiffed up for me. No point wasting it. I need to finish up here anyway.”

The manservant coughed delicately. “Actually, if you don’t mind, Sir Am particularly requested that you bring it through.”

“Did he now?” Katze eyes narrowed.

“Yes, he was quite clear on that point. I will see to the broken statue when more convenient.”

Almost imperceptibly, Katze squared his broad shoulders amazed at how truly fleet of foot Kato could be as he made himself scarce, leaving him alone to attend the Blondie.


~~~BMR~~~


He could hear the water lapping gently in the bathtub as he re-entered the bedroom proper with the hot tray.

“About damn time too, simply horrendous manners, Katze. Would you have dared to do this to your precious Iason, oh forgive me, your Excellency?”

“Yeah but I wasn’t being fucked by him, was I? I still have a business to run, Sir Am.”

Raoul examined the tip of his wet mane in earnest, his jaw line growing tense as his lips thinned in preparation to retort.

Katze watched the transformation, unsure of what to make of the protracted silence. By now the Elite usually struck with a vengeance, either verbally or physically. He almost preferred that to this stalemate.

He entered the room cautiously, placing the tray on the long vanity and examined the offering. “Kato seems to have gone all out. If I remember correctly you take it black and well steeped?”

Emerald eyes glistened in the warm amber light, taking in the unfamiliar robe with a good deal of prurient delight, enjoying how the filmy material caressed the lean, well muscled body that had given him such pleasure.

Katze turned in the uncomfortable silence with the steaming cup and carefully approached the silent Elite.

“Cookie?”

Raoul’s brows furrowed briefly. “No, just the tea…please…”

It was Katze’s turn to look uncomfortable with addition of ‘please’, however delayed.

Raoul was far too silent and watchful as he bent traditionally before him as though he were his Master and handed him the saucer and cup without meeting the flat expression in jewel toned eyes.

Their fingers touched briefly, prompting a jolt within the mongrel’s being and words he never thought himself capable of came readily. “For what it’s worth, Sir Am, thank you for a pleasant evening, and your company.”

Raoul sipped indifferently and adjusted his head against the tile. “Pleasant was it? I distinctly remember a mongrel returning from his duties looking pitiful and having to take him to task for his attitude.”

The redhead looked up beneath his lashes with a smirk. “Funny, I distinctly remember an Elite being fucked to within an inch of his spoilt life and screaming that mongrel’s name in ecstasy. Never knew you knew those kinds of words, Sir Am. You’ve been keeping bad company. Jupiter would never approve.”

Emerald eyes glared over the rim of the porcelain cup. “You would be amazed what I do know, Katze of Ceres.”

“Truce?”

“Détente, I should think. The evening was acceptable.”

“Same difference,” Katze chuckled, prepared to rise.

“Stay.”

The redhead sighed. “My knees hurt. My arm is killing me and I’m tired, Raoul.”

This would be the third time Katze had used his given name without thinking. It wasn’t offensive in the least. He hadn’t even found it offensive as he stilled above him in the heat of passion, raw need evident in the final thrust as he came deep within his body, collapsing in fulfillment.

“Then join me. The therapeutic properties of heated water cannot be overlooked. It will ease your overworked muscles.”

Katze nodded and disrobed self-consciously, stepping into the tub at the opposite end. He curled his limbs tightly, avoiding contact with the decadently prone Elite, intentionally ignoring his bobbing member as he looked to the star filled sky beyond the window.

“I won’t bite…unless you want me to. Relax…Katze.”

A wan smile touched the mongrel’s lips as he gratefully stretched aching limbs, ignoring the ever present heat, not of water but of long limbs that caressed his own beneath the water’s surface.

He sighed aloud and closed his eyes. “Your chauffeur is here.”

Raoul snorted. “And?”

“Just saying…”

“You do that quite a lot, even in sleep.”

Katze chuckled softly and flexed his limbs, growing indolently comfortable, enjoying the soft resonance of Raoul’s voice and companionship.

“You’re beautiful when you come.”

“And this surprises you?” Raoul retorted off-handedly, placing his cup on the soft bath mat. “I am nothing if not perfect, under all circumstance.”

A rare thing is laughter from one schooled in silence, schooled in control of emotions not easily given or allowed, but when it came there was unsurpassed joy in its genuineness, in its infectious warmth.

“Smug fuck aren’t you, Sir Am?”

Oh he wanted to be offended at the liberty of the statement. In the end, he could not be as he observed the calm lines of that perfectly imperfect face, finally relaxed, finally comfortable in his presence.

"As to be expected, Katze of Ceres,” Raoul purred languidly. “Now, tell me about Admon.”

Katze opened a suspicious golden eye to glare at the Elite, making a mess of the shampoo suds. There was no dignity in a face full of suds. The redhead eased his lithe frame up and made his way to the opposing corner of the tub, glowering at the soap laced dark golden mane, before lowering himself behind the Elite and replacing his hands in the thankless task.

Strong hands came about Katze’s thighs easing them down and around Raoul’s back in silent acceptance.

“How did you acquire that self possessed he-bitch with the talented mouth?"

The dealer sighed while kneading the slick, silken mass between his fingers. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

~~~BMR~~~


Admon bathed and hurriedly dressed with meticulous care. He was leaving, that self-possessed Blondie and he intended to encounter him, if only to put right their understanding. Raoul’s instinctive distrust and jealousy could get in the way. Perhaps if he could finally make that connection, engender memories of the Master, he could sate the potential backlash.

Years of observation of their kind had taught him that despite the superfluous frippery of their race, they were hard task masters with a higher purpose, beholden to their all mighty god, Jupiter, for their existence and continuity.

They too were minions but of an aggrandized calling, bound and determined to succeed beyond their commercial and scientific ventures in pursuit of perfection.

Although supercilious to a fault and intellectually superior to most other humanoids, some still bore traces of their humble antecedence. It was a dangerous combination, emotionality and intellect in equal measure.

Raoul Am was one such and he had an axe to grind with the Karinese.

~~~BMR~~~


The flat of Katze’s palm smoothed the tunic with self-satisfied pride before picking up pristine white gloves to hand to the Elite, completing his habille. Even this, Raoul would not make easy as he peered down imperiously at the smaller male with expectancy and extended a long elegant hand to be gloved.

Katze suppressed a chuckle and took Raoul’s thumb between his own and index, smoothing the light material over each digit, checking for snugness before repeating the procedure on the other hand with infinite grace.

“Perfect,” he murmured and moved toward the door, opening it quietly for the Elite’s departure.

Raoul simple stood, flexing his fingers for fit, finding no fault. “Acceptable.”

There was a protracted pause however as he waited for Katze to acknowledge his presence. The dealer slowly looked to the door as if prompting his exit instead. “Yes, Sir Am?”

“You aren’t dressed.”

Katze looked down at the robe he wore, genuinely perplexed by the statement. “I don’t need to be dressed to see you out, Sir Am. I intend to get at least two hours sleep before fetching you for the Auction.” He shrugged. “No point dressing twice.”

Raoul nodded, pursing his lips and adjusted his sleeves with a little too much vigor.

“If memory serves you mentioned a pressing need to speak with Admon? I would think it unseemly to be so casually attired; might give the wrong impression as to your intentions.”

Katze’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I have no interest in fucking him, just to be clear, Sir Am. He and I merely need to set some ground rules, if he is to remain in this stable.”

Raoul inclined his head, preening beneath the evident lust in no way hidden by those pale amber eyes giving him the once over.

“I already have what I want, Sir Am. Your concern has been noted.”

The Blondie stiffened at the tacit implication of the statement. Katze was getting above himself again.

“Careful Katze, my tolerance has limits. Be assured, I have no interest in your business dealings. This is merely a warning concerning etiquette and the correct protocol when dealing with those who serve, nothing more.”

Katze inclined his own head, widening the open port for emphasis. “And for this I thank you, Sir Am and bow to your greater understanding in these matters. I’ll take it under advisement.”

Green eyes became glacial at the backhanded retort. He had been checkmated - again.

Emerald was never meant to be the color of burning embers well set in a flawless visage, Katze thought, gripping Raoul’s gloved wrists defensively as he was backed into the door and pinned effortlessly.

That hard resilient form pressed against his threateningly as Raoul lowered his head and barely whispered against his cheek.

“Get dressed now, Katze, and just to be clear, that was not a request.”

~~~BMR~~~


Admon smiled contentedly as he brushed his hair to a silken sheen. There was a spike in tension down the hall, a welcomed surprise. Katze had managed to overstep, unwittingly exacting the ire of the possessive male in his presence.

Raoul was scared, though he would never admit it.

He had a right, but not for the reasons he supposed. Dark maroon eyes glanced in the mirror, admiring the little music box with renewed hope. All was not lost. His new Master wanted to see him, because of that interfering Kato. He could use this to his advantage, under the circumstances.


~~~BMR~~~

His Master was never late, the elder Furniture fussed with dusting as a form of nervous pre-occupation. He was with that ex-Furniture and that odd looking Pet, who seemed familiar somehow. True, he had only seen him for less than a minute, but something was definitely familiar in his gaze.

Deek tutted and continued his rounds towards the alcove. The sound of the artfully placed running stream was most pleasant to his fretful mind. He stopped and looked up at the portrait, glowing softly in the incandescent light.

The eyes were so familiar to him now that peered down, resolute in their condescension, almost reminding him of that ex-Furniture a bit, even in the subtle plains of his face. The Furniture blinked away the uncalled for thought, preferring to focus on how well his Master had captured Sir Niiro in portrait, but then he would with his eidetic abilities and predisposition for exceptional beauty and intellect combined.

Many a day he remembered serving light fare while heated discourse took place in the study on subjects he could not hazard their outcome or content, their home had been livelier then and the lab put to good use, though it always fell to another servile with technical skills to do the cleanup.

Those two had been bound by science and secret in their youth, the Ruby entering realms well beyond his designated station, but encouraged by his Master nonetheless with the apathetic acceptance of Sir Mink over time.

Deek had wondered just how far that friendship went, but it was unthinkable then. A time before the head of Amoi had taken to bedding a disreputable mongrel. There were definite times when the Master had looked perturbed and the ire of the Ruby had been raised. Weeks went by without a visit before the same cycle began again.

The elderly male paused in thought, giving the portrait a final bow. He had been kind. Well as kind as any of them were capable of with that silent veiled creature he often times brought to those meetings out of sight of the other Elites.

~~~BMR~~~


Raoul’s gaze travelled slowly over the figure dressed in a thin silky black knit sweater and equally snug fitting trousers of a material he called denim. They were this side of obscenely plastered to long legs and then some. No doubt the choices had been made as a form of protest by the glowering male with the ubiquitous smoke about to be lit.

“Satisfied?”

“Not in the least. You are trying my patience intentionally, Katze but your garments will suffice, considering the environment.”

Katze glared at the handsome Elite as he entered the office. It seemed Raoul had made himself quite comfortable again, this time with his brandy, while he waited to see the results of his command.

“I’m not a Pet, Sir Am and never will be. I ask humbly that you consider that the next time you give such an order because I do not readily comply to your wishes, well founded or not. This is my space, my world, small and limited as it is. I reign here under his Excellency’s auspices. Please allow me that modicum of respect.”

The dark amber liquid swirled gently in the bowl of the crystal, giving off its warm fruity fragrance to Raoul’s discerning nose as he watched Katze pour his own snifter before sitting across from the Blondie expectantly.

“A decent fuck does not give you carte blanche to speak in such a manner to your superiors.”

The dealer inclined his head accepting the quietly spoken reproach. It could have gone worse. “Would you like me to see you out Sir Am or would Donovan be acceptable?”

Tossing his thick mane, Raoul stood. “Whatever, I believe I am capable of traversing the stairs without the supervision of one of your minions.”

“As you wish, Sir Am. Wouldn’t want you getting lost. This place can be like a warren at times with its many stairs and paths, particularly at this hour when it’s quiet and all is dark.”

Raoul’s eyes narrowed as he watched the ghostlike plumes of smoke that swirled about Katze’s pale angular face, waiting for the punch line that never came as the mongrel turned to his monitor and affixed his earpiece.

“Most of the clients have left for the night or are otherwise engaged, so you should encounter no one but the cleaning staff as on your previous visit. Donovan will see you to the limo, for security reasons.”

The Elite chuckled to himself as he stood and righted his coat with a flourish. “You are exceedingly good at dismissal, Katze, however subtly played. We can only hope you apply that same acumen to your meeting with Admon.”

Katze blinked at the non-sequitur. “Pardon me, Sir Am? I don’t quite catch your meaning.”

“Sex Katze, Sex. It can be used as a weapon in skilled hands even when cloaked in the guise of companionship. Be careful. This ever present need you mongrels have to have pairing partners is destructive and I suspect the whore has this in mind.”

Pale lips quirked half heartedly as the cigarette was stubbed out and the last swig of brandy was downed. Katze rose and rounded the desk to stand before the Elite. He looked Raoul over clinically beneath long lashes, the smile on his lips never quite meeting tired amber eyes.

“And that is my saving grace, Sir Am. I have never desired what I could not have by circumstance, corrections notwithstanding. It is pointless and illusory, life has taught me that much. I am merely grateful that I will see another day, relatively intact. I make no plans beyond the next moment; the next task that keeps me alive because of my usefulness. Never have. Never will.”

There was no answer to that. No witty retort comparable or adequate of sentiment.

Raoul’s gaze remained fixed upon that handsome scarred face, never realizing until too late a single gloved finger graced Katze’s scarred cheek gently. “Mongrels…I will never understand why you chose to keep it.”

Katze turned away and headed for the port and opened it with rapid taps to the keypad before bowing deeply to the Elite. “Good evening, Sir Am.”

No, there really was no witticism that came to mind to alleviate the churning at the pit of his stomach and so he left, feeling the gaze of the mongrel upon his broad back.

~~~BMR~~~

Katze slide down to a crouch and inhaled deeply against the closed port. There was no accounting for why he felt so discontented, bereft of purpose in that instant as he looked about him, entirely dissatisfied with his lot as master of nothing.

His bed called, but he had other matters more pressing. Slowly he raised himself; ears pricked for the sound of a distinctive engine but heard nothing. To assuage the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach he headed for his bedroom and lay amongst the rumpled sheets that still bore the faint scent of their sexual union.

The redhead sighed dejectedly and curled himself atop the disheveled mass of silk, pulling soft pillows to him and inhaled deeply of Raoul, ignoring the eddies of arousal it caused.

“Bastard,” he murmured into the stillness, smoothing the cool material closer and in the process finding a single strand of gold which he coiled delicately about his finger. A tangible reminder of a perfect moment he would always carry, if only on the wisp of memory. It would have to be enough.

~~~BMR~~~


Scent, the most ephemeral of the senses gifted to the humanoid species was a double edged sword, Raoul knew all too well. It could so readily appease and rile in equal measure, depending on the associated memories that accompanied the olfactory stimuli.

That clawing, floral mélange rose to his discerning nostrils in the pitch blackness where he stood atop the stairwell. Yes, memory was a very strange thing indeed.

Raoul felt the subtle prickling of his spine in warning. The same warning he had felt so many years ago in their first encounter. Perhaps it was the close darkness and the unfamiliar surroundings that focused his attention fully on the subtle movements of the diaphanously cloaked male who stood stock still at the foot of the stairs.

Sir Niiro’s acolyte had always worn something similar with each visit to his home, never once revealing himself or uttering a word. Merely following directives, just as Admon had done with Katze earlier that day.

Raoul grasped the railing tightly, amazed at his own stupidity and lack of perceptive foresight. It had been there in front of his eyes all along, his subconscious mind had known.

“You are … Admon?”

Long graceful fingers lowered the filmy veil, revealing a halo of strawberry blonde locks and the perfectly proportioned alien countenance. Admon’s lips quirked at their corners in a half smile, knowing full well the connection had finally been made for both.

“Yes, Sir Am.”

“You’re appearance has changed, but your scent hasn’t.”

Admon regarded the Blondie quietly, stepping back into shadow, giving a cursory glance over his broad shoulder.

“I am still a work in progress, Raoul Am, awaiting my completion. I too held you in residual memory and only recently began to put the pieces together.”

Emerald green flashed disapprovingly at the familiarity as the Blondie’s rich mane was tossed irritably over a broad shoulder, that obstinate lock falling back in place shrouding one leery eye.

“Sir Niiro never did see fit to name his living experimentations.”

“The Master considered it superfluous. Few saw fruition to actual sentience.” Admon answered waspishly, before lowering his gaze. He had not come to foment war with the already bristly Elite. The topic of Guardian would have to wait, considering the two sepulchral shadows silently coming down the stairs, listening intently.

“Out of curiosity, what generation are you?”

Why could he not read him? Better yet, why could the Elite not sense their approach? It was as if a wall had been erected.

“AD Karin – 003.”

Raoul’s lips set in a pensive moue, pale brows furrowing as he regarded the specimen with analytical eyes. At such close proximity, the scent no longer offended, interesting. Why did he have immunity to its pull?

“Since you are obviously fully functional, why were you so afraid of being examined earlier?”

Admon lowered his gaze. “It is of a personal nature, Sir Am.”

The slow raising of the robe revealing a porcelain inner thigh was answer enough.

“He marked you with the crest of his house, but why?”

Raoul recoiled, almost tottering with the realization but for the gentle, familiar hand that grasped his bicep to steady him, jogging him out of his self imposed reverie. He turned to meet the golden, querulous eyes of the dealer and his tall, bald shadow - Donovan.

“You’re driver is waiting, Sir Am. Donovan will see you to your vehicle.”

~~~BMR~~~


Darkness was preferable for this little tryst.

That beautiful register as it screamed in agony adding piquancy to the moment and did wonders for the persistent throb of his heavy member, awaiting its turn to exact punishment in the most delectable and wholly aberrant of ways. Well, Iason mused meditatively, aberrant to the majority of his brethren who would never outwardly countenance such congress.

It was of course beneath them.

But then, they were not privy to the ecstasy of the supple, burnished form writhing suggestively atop the pallet. It mattered not that the mongrel was in pain as the metallic ring tightened and pulsed about his distended cock.

Iason sighed contentedly twisting the device he wore as ring on his middle finger and closed his eyes momentarily gripped by the bitter sweet cadence of that tired rasp as Riki slumped into unconsciousness.

The Platina’s brows furrowed briefly as he regarded the device before his brows smoothed. He looked beneficently at his recalcitrant Pet and tsked indulgently. That charge had not been nearly enough to produce the feigned results. When would he learn?

“Naughty…a little contrition on your part would go a long way, Riki in alleviating your discomfort.”

“You’re one sick fuck!” Riki growled, yanking on his restraints to no avail.

Iason groaned softly uncrossing his long legs, ignoring the pressing needs of his loins was becoming unbearable. Cold, ice blue eyes surveyed the truly exquisite body, well cut, lean muscle shimmering with sweat, rippling responsively to each jolt of electric shock.

Gloved finger tips slid slowly up the Elite’s thigh, feather light, eyes transfixed on the object of possessive lust.

“I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear, you fuckin’ deviant?!” Riki ground out through gritted teeth, barely able to catch his breath as his sight was blinded once more from the burning, sharp stimulus to his already over-sensitized cock. The manacles were burning now, cutting into his wrists and ankles with each painful tug of resistance.

Movement, the tethered mongrel noted peripherally. If he could get him to come closer, he’d make him stop this shit. No matter what, Iason always gave in with a little dirty talk as stimulus.

“I know you’re over there touching yourself. What? Not hard enough yet?! Bring it here, I’ll soon fix that.”

Dark eyes were finally able to refocus at the looming pale shadow that bent forward blocking the one source of light within the room. He felt the gloved finger tip caress and pinch his lower lip.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Iason purred softly with a dissolute smile curving soft full lips.

“Bitch!” Riki snarled and bit the finger tip between his teeth, the gratifying taste of salty blood entering his mouth before a fist connected with his jaw. The mongrel managed a wry smile as he shifted his jaw looking up into the white hot fury that had entered dark pupils that almost eclipsed sky blue irises as clothing was quickly dispensed with.

Let the games begin. The Elite was on his turf now.

~~~BMR~~~


Cal flinched at the angry cries coming from the small room to the back of the penthouse, reserved for punitive redress, as Sir Mink, euphemistically chose to view the disciplining of his ill-tempered mongrel.

Stiffening his own spine to the coming distasteful task, the Furniture went to the equally small adjoining room with its medical supplies. By the sound of things, he would be needed in short order. It really was best to be prepared. He hadn’t needed to attend the young man for quite some time.

The Furniture shook his head sadly. Things had been going so well. His Master had been so pleasantly disposed these last few weeks and now this. All because of his willful Pet, who had no one to blame but himself.

~~~BMR~~~


He would not soon defy him again.

“Riki…Riki…Riki.”

That tight ring of muscle had finally surrendered to his girth, blissfully tight and slick with the mongrel’s own internal warmth. No need for lubricant. This too was part of the punishment to take him unprepared.

Iason nuzzled the damp cheek, inhaling deeply of the mongrel’s distinctive tang.

“You grip me so delightfully, even in evident distress.” Iason whispered into Riki’s ear as he continued to plunder, the hot slick orifice with merciless strokes of his turgid length.

He was no longer fighting, perhaps he was enjoying it. He usually did, despite protestations to the contrary.

Something was different though. Riki’s limbs were too slack and unresponsive. Usually he gave as good as he got in this little battle of wills.

Iason opened his eyes in horror, noting for the first time the pallet beneath the mongrel and his own hips and thighs were saturated not with sweat but blood.

~~~BMR~~~


Cal’s eyes grew wide as the cup he held crashed to the tiled kitchen floor.

There before him was his Master, naked, bloody and unkempt with Riki’s limp, unconscious body cradled in his arms. The Elite’s mouth worked, but no sound came as he looked down at the pale, almost blank expressionless face of his Pet.

Distraught, regretful eyes finally looking to the Furniture, beseeching aid.

Cal approached the shivering Blondie with outstretched arms.

Iason snarled, pulling the body more tightly to him as if in defense, kissing the clammy forehead.

“I’ll fetch, Sir Am.”

Cal wasn’t sure if his Excellency had heard, but he did note the name had registered in the dull countenance as the Elite turned with his burden, stepping through the broken shards and headed for the Master bedroom, tracking blood on the carpeting in his wake, oblivious to his own injuries.

~~~BMR~~~


Its seepage engendered fear for the untutored.

Blood was never quite the color most preferred to project in art. It was so rarely vibrant crimson. In reality it was a deep maroon when oxidized; a dark, sacred liquid with ultimate power over life and death.

It was acrid, thick and its coppery scent left much to be desired when left to stew, but fortunately not in this instance.

Raoul’s gaze travelled briefly to the side of the bed as he worked efficiently counting, if peripherally, the number of swabs used, post suturing.

This had not been optimal. Hardly a surgery, despite the luxurious surroundings, but his friend of years called and it was his duty to attend, without question.

No one deserved this. Not even a lowly mongrel such as this; tiresome to say the least and importunate at the best of times. Raoul's mind briefly turned to the redhead, of equally fragile make - unacceptable.

Surely death would follow for anyone who would dare to take such liberties, even another of his brethren. Of this there was no question.

Raoul turned his hardened, disappointed gaze to the still figure who sat at the far window, barely robed and a shadow of his former self. Iason was still a disheveled mess and virtually catatonic. His blank stare only for the prone mongrel who had been bathed, and lain down once more in a medically induced stupor.

He had not been home more than thirty minutes before the com sounded and a frantic Cal sought his immediate audience for something that required his ‘utmost’ discretion.

Raoul had hoped to have some minutes to process, perhaps to look over those ancient medical notes. AD – Karin -003 was perfect. If he was right, Admon was all Amoi did not need.

He was fact. With him came complications calling into question all manner of theories long held by the pampered and cosseted, the chosen of Lambda 3000, who in itself had forgotten its original purpose.

The Blondie gently raised the coverlet over the still resting male and gathered his equipment, giving only a cursory glance to his friend.

“I will return before the Auction for a check in. Leave him be for now, Iason. Do not disturb his rest.”

It was a command. The first he had ever given to his leader. Cal flinched at Raoul’s tone and furtively looked to his Master who stared blankly at the mongrel but nodded his assent.

He regarded his friend and trusted confidante, the leader of this formerly barren rock in the Commonwealth. Iason, the ultimate Elite, who like the entity he served had long forgotten its’ most humble of beginning on the twelfth and most unremarkable of planets in the system of Garan.

Author’s Note

I know. A rough ride, but it serves for the greater good. Hope you enjoyed.This is so much fun. Of all the pieces I have written thus far, must say have gotten the most enjoyment out of the review process because there have been some amazing observations and some of you are just so scary intelligent...oh my God! Just delightful to communicate with you. Have been a bit late this week in review responses, but the good bit? I have begun the next chapter in earnest. Well and truly this is a joy and the reviews are such wonderful fuel. The sharing of minds is everything. Thank you for the inordinately kind and literate support.

EP