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 – Sexual Situations

Parts: WIP – 20 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

“The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love
and be loved in return.”
~~~
Eden Ahbez
"Nature Boy" (song, recorded by Nat King Cole)

Chapter 20 of 25 – Strange Enchantment: Fools and Kings (Post OVA)


The play of light and shadow upon cold hard surfaces drew the mongrel’s eyes as he entered the room cautiously. In this instance a milky white vase stood in contrast to an unfamiliar bloom whose fragrance was delicate, and whose color was merely a blush against a woody stem.

This had been the scent, not sandalwood, that followed Raoul in their previous encounter. Katze bristled remembering how he had been summarily dismissed. He now knew why. The ill timed use of the Elite’s given name in a moment of passion had changed the dynamic for what had promised to be a decidedly pleasing encounter.

The space was elegant and calming to the dealer’s eyes. Its quiet opulence of creams, eggshell, and ocher balancing nicely with varying shades of green that accented the room’s furnishings. Nothing outré, nothing dynamic in presence that would immediately draw the eye, all pleasing, all subtle, except the mantle and what was below. This one allowance to decadent luxury and an inherent predisposition to rarity, held sway as amber eyes danced with amusement.

Padding softly across the deep plush carpeting, the dealer chose to ignore the placement of his clothing atop the bedding that was the deepest shade of caramel he had ever seen.

A wry smile crossed his lips. Our space always told much of who we were, if you knew how to look. Raoul was Summer to his Autumn, even with the incongruity of the antiquated device that harkened to simpler times.

The fireplace said much about the Being and the rumpled throw that had been cast aside, partially hiding an open book which lay atop an overstuffed pillow, which still bore the marks of elbows. This is where Raoul had been when he arrived.

Katze looked about with knitted brows. Something was missing. Where was the reclining chair that should have stood in front of the working fireplace and the end table for the cooling drink? No way in hell Mr. High-and-Mighty would get down on the carpet to read? Was it even possible, such simplicity was Raoul Am?


He bent and studied the logs, fingers brushing the flaking bark. They were fucking real! Real wood! Damn!

“You are tactile by nature, aren’t you, Katze? For something to be real, you must touch it – make it yours to complete the sensory experience.”

The mongrel turned with bright frightened eyes. When had Raoul come in and how long had he been observing in that feline way of his with his back against the closed door?

“Do not distress yourself. It is simply an observation, not a reprimand.”

Katze lowered his gaze and straightened, purposefully heading for the bed. “Sorry to have kept you, Sir Am, I will be dressed in a minute.”

Raoul waved in his usual dismissive fashion. “No need to hurry on my account. I was rather enjoying watching you assess my character. I trust I passed muster? The usual calculating edge in that stoic, well practiced gaze was absent while perusing. What have you gleaned, fair mongrel?”

Anger roiled Katze’s gut. Raoul was making fun of him. He pursed his lips and disrobed, uncaring of curious eyes that raked over him contentedly as he donned warmed undergarments and pulled on re-pressed jeans and soft knitted sweater.

“Nothing, Sir Am, absolutely nothing. May I have some coffee before we go?”

“Ahhh, whatever it was has made you uncomfortable. Should I be irritated by the thinly veiled insult? That is the question.”

Raoul watched as that handsome scarred face turned to him with a sidelong glance. Always assessing the pros and cons of the enemy, even an enemy that had claimed his body as its own on myriad occasions and would again by end of day when the distasteful task of the Auction was completed.

“Abuse of Shakespeare notwithstanding, Sir Am, I found a being of Summer to my Autumn. I found rightful privilege to my secreted ones. I found simplicity and grace in opulence and I am still looking for that damned easy chair, ‘cause I refuse to believe you lay there on your belly,” Katze pointed accusingly at the discarded throw, “and read for hours on end merely covered by that with pillows beneath your elbows.”

The Elite noted with satisfaction soft amber twinkled back up at him mischievously, though the outward countenance remained stoic. “I have my illusions too. Don’t wreck ‘em all, Sir Am.”

Raoul bent his head but remained at the door, allowing the mongrel space as he sat on the bed’s edge to efficiently lace shoes. Deek had merely placed the laces beside each shoe, the process had been unfamiliar to him and in truth Raoul knew, it had been a meaningless act of defiance and passive aggression, designed to irk the mongrel.

Another quirk, the Elite noted. Those were custom made.

“And what would those illusions be, Katze? Speak freely.”

That sidelong look again; he was predictable, if you knew what to look for. Whatever he was about to say was meant to insight ire. Raoul vowed not to respond as anticipated.

“You’re supposed to be,” the mongrel paused, dark lashes lowering as he mumbled almost inaudibly, examining his feet with extreme interest, “a constipated ass like all your brethren. You are not to have a personality or actual quirks that could even be vaguely seen as endearing. I don’t need the complications.”

“And what would those complications be, Katze?”

His shoes appeared to have lost their appeal as broad shoulders squared and he looked across the room at the Elite with cold opacity. “I am not Riki, Sir Am and I harbor no illusions as the outcome of,” Katze shrugged, “this. I ask only that you inform me when the last round is played. I’m not looking for anything. He is, hence his current predicament. The dumb fuck doesn’t want to admit that he loves Iason.”

Raoul blinked then flushed at the unexpected retort and the implicit, unspoken candor of what was not said.

“Duly noted, Katze, and your assessment of Iason? Again, it never leaves this room.”

“Obsessed, intrigued, in love and hasn’t a fucking clue what to do with it, other than to abuse unfamiliar emotions he isn’t meant to have. So he punishes.”

The Blondie stilled in the presence of a truly formidable mind. How unfortunate his birth. He might have amounted to something if born another caste.

“Thank you, Sir Am.”

“For?”

“Allowing this... exchange. I care for Riki, he is my brethren, but he gives himself over emotionally to everything. He always gets the sharp end of the stick because of it. He can’t win, but he won’t acknowledge it.”

Pale lips quirked moderately and sparkling cold bottle green eyes glared with unusual ferocity back at the mongrel. “How refreshing it must be to have all your emotions well in hand. It so simplifies life, I should think. You need nothing. You want nothing, and yes, sometimes you see nothing, so much safer that way in avoiding those complications you spoke of.”

The dealer inclined his head, glad of their understanding. “Yes, Sir Am.”

There was something uncomfortable about the quietude of Raoul’s response. Katze wasn’t even sure it was anger that he saw in narrowed eyes, but he did hear the sharp intake of breath and knew something acid was about to roll off that tongue.

“Equally, how thwarted an existence.”

Katze flinched, meeting the level gaze but only half heartedly. “Sir Am?”

“Riki, of course, whom else would I be speaking of?”

Quietly the adjoining door hushed open and Raoul, in mock imitation, inclined his own head with an outstretched hand showing the way. “After you, Katze, that coffee you spoke of awaits.”

~~~BMR~~~


He heard the dull thud of boots descending the stairs and closed his eyes tightly. No point feeding Donovan’s ego, by making him realize he had been awake all this time, awaiting his return.

The port opened with its usual quiet hush. Silence, as boots were removed, and a quiet tread heading towards the bathroom after a lengthy pause. Guy strove to keep his breathing even and quiet, feigning sleep as Donovan passed.

“Five Celsius,” was the command from a clearly tired male register. What the fuck? That was practically freezing. Then again, he was a weird fuck and was probably trying to stay awake.

The shower bloomed into its usual comforting noise and he heard the cabinet opened and a new scent wafted through the partially opened door, while the bodyguard spoke in hushed tones into his com.

It was Katze.

Obviously Donovan thought he was sleeping, ‘cause they were talkin’ serious shit. Apparently the redhead was still at the Blondie’s home, having breakfast of all things.

Guy huffed.

Seriously, as it was there weren’t enough viable males and those assholes just pick and choose from the best of the crop, taking the attractive, the intelligent off the market as their playthings, leaving only slim pickings for the rest. It just wasn’t right.

“No. No issues, not even with the chimera, weird assed lookin’ thing.”

A pause, Guy lifted his head from the pillow to listen more closely as the door was turned slightly. Donovan had gone into a whisper.

“So, I meet you there with him? How is that going to go over with your pairing partner, ‘cause he is that, you know? You think it’s a coincidence that you found him in your bed on the night that you planned on…testing Admon’s skills?”

Even Guy could hear the bark from the com as Donovan stifled a laugh and he imagined the bodyguard holding the device away from his ear in auditory defense.

“I’m telling you, it’s typical alpha male behavior, I should know. He’s pissing on his property, even now by keeping you away from him. He wanted Admon to know he had nailed you, good and proper. Hell, if he could he’d scent mark you and chain you to his bed for the duration.”

Guy stuffed the pillow behind his head. This was getting good. Fuck pretending to sleep. This was juicy. It didn’t get much better than this, even if he had to keep it to himself.

“Sorry, Boss, we’ve never lied to each other, why start now? I’m just saying, no point getting pissed with me for pointing out the obvious. Be careful. Their cagy fuckers when they stake a claim. Look at Riki.”

More garbled sounds and a slow sigh from Donovan’s end. “Okay, see you at twenty-six hundred, yeah, yeah with Admon. I’m gonna try to get some shut eye in the meantime.”

Bison’s leader craned his neck, dimly able to make out the shadowy movements beyond the doorway. By the sound of things, Donovan was removing his clothing while listening to the quiet monotone of Katze’s hushed, staccato speech. Wherever his fellow mongrel was, he wasn’t exactly free to speak. The Blondie was probably hovering nearby.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Boss, the extra backup is appreciated from covert security. Yeah, the boys are good. Nothing major to report just some solid leads on a couple of viable females for the stable, both ex-Pets, so they’re trained, less of a hassle.”

Guy gulped audibly as Donovan’s naked inked silhouette passed the doorway and bent to retrieve a long black towel to wrap around his midsection.

“Oh yeah you’ll like this part, one of our private transports made a killing last night. Remember that newly terra-formed planetoid in the Eastern quadrant you’ve been keeping an eye on? They made a pit stop for ‘repairs’ at the space port. You know to check things out on the QT, like? You’ll never guess who actually owns it, a fuckin’ Elite. They didn’t even know it until he showered them with credit markers bearing Syndicate registry, if you can believe it. No questions asked, man. Paid for the cargo and trip in one go.”

Guy held his breath, quietly sitting up, thoroughly mesmerized as he watched Donovan methodically pass a thin carbon blade over the non-existent hairs of his scalp without missing a beat as he continued to debrief his Boss. “No trouble, just wanted a ride back to Amoi.”

“He has a female with him. No, she didn’t look like a Pet according to the crew, more like a bodyguard by how she practically stalked him, caused quite the stir apparently.”

Donovan’s brows furrowed in thought as he looked into the mirror, spotting the shadowy movement upon the bed in the other room. So he had been awake. He thought as much.

“Boss, do they have females? Elites, I mean? Never seen one.” an ominous silence. “Thought as much, didn’t think so. No, I didn’t get any description, why? Is it important?”


~~~BMR~~~


Katze closed his com resolutely before turning his attention to the reclining Elite studying the breakfast offering with pursed lips. The dealer had no doubt that those ears had heard every single word of the conversation, well his end anyway. Deductive reasoning was their specialty. For all he knew, Raoul had overheard Donovan’s end of the discourse too. There was only one way to find out.

“Did you hear any of that, Sir Am?”

“Enough. Why?”

Golden eyes narrowed as the mongrel retrieved his coffee cup and sipped the now lukewarm, bitter liquid. He grimaced. Deek sucked at coffee, something he would be sure to tell Raoul’s manservant in a roundabout way. Then again, he did like living and didn’t want to be poisoned unnecessarily.

“I’m just wondering why an Elite would select to own a planetoid that had little commercial value.” Katze offered conversationally, declining another refill of the noxious, acrid brew. “This is sufficient, thank you, Sir Am. I would not dream of putting Deek out in any way.”

Raoul lowered the carafe, his attempt at civility foiled temporarily as he sniffed its contents. It seemed fine. Then again, he did not drink the stimulant as a rule. “Would you prefer something else, tea perhaps?”

The dealer perched on the adjoining seat, refusing to sit next to the Blondie and waited. Raoul was stalling. He could feel it in his bones. “Any idea why, Sir Am? As a rule, your kind is not known for exploration. Everything comes to you.”

Katze signed, leveling the Blondie with an irritated look. It was all fine and well to converse, but only on the Elite’s terms. “Never mind, at times it’s like talking to a blank wall with you lot.”

“I’m sure you have made your own assessment, Katze. You ask nothing without having reasoned it out yourself.”

The dealer inclined his head and placed the cup’s rim to his lips for want of something else to do.

No way in hell would he ask permission to smoke around Mr. Healthful, who never failed to mention how much he smoked in an offhanded way. Katze watched with growing annoyance and no small amount of hunger as Raoul served himself before settling back on the couch, studying the morsel on his fork.

“Well my clever little mongrel, what do you surmise?”

Placing the cup on the weathered, low table, Katze retrieved a plate and gave his full attention to the warm fragrant eggs, scrambled to fluffy perfection. He added well buttered toast as an afterthought.

“Its strategic placement just beyond Commonwealth space while remaining outside of Amoi’s jurisdiction makes it ideal for anyone sufficiently wealthy and influential to do as they see fit, entirely undisturbed.”

“Would that be why you have been keeping a close watch on it for the last year, Katze?” Raoul asked around a mouthful of toast with a bland expression.

‘Checkmate.’

Katze shrugged, grateful that he had not begun to eat yet. He’d have choked when looking back into those perceptive depths. “I like to keep his Excellency’s options open for new acquisitions.”

“Not yours, of course? Never yours, Clever One,” Raoul retorted with a savage bite of toast.

The dealer chuckled in a way he hoped appeared offhanded as he tapped his temple. “Come on, Sir Am. What would an ex-Furniture gain by acquiring such a thing? It’s not like I can leave Amoi.”

“You have disabled your own tracking chip on more than one occasion in a skirmish, a definite strategic advantage. That fertile mind of yours seeks freedom above all else.”

The fork froze midway to his lips.

Raoul genuinely smiled, finally having gotten one over on the shocked mongrel. “Did you think the dummy trace covered your tracks in those instances when you chose to revisit the labs of Guardian? A bit of advice, Katze, always vary your time loops.”

Cold, he felt naked and cold at the soothing, conversational tone being used by the Elite.

“I’ve always meant to ask, what were you looking for in those medical archives, Katze? Where you trying to decipher who were your forbearers were?”

In no uncertain terms, Raoul had his life in his hands and knew it. A mind wipe was the least of his worries.

Fuck asking, he needed to smoke.

He fumbled in his coat pocket, only breathing again when he found the pack, hurriedly retrieved a smoke and lit it. “Does Iason know?”

“No.” Raoul responded softly, sectioning four equal portions of egg.

Katze noted the subtle, uncomfortable shift of shoulders and the attempt at even breathing.

“Only I do, Katze. You have a secondary implant not documented and organic in nature, hence undetectable, unless you knew what to look for.” Raoul’s brows furrowed. “Your body still tries to reject it to this day. I’m at a loss as to why though - strange. It is unique to your DNA and in effect, untraceable.”

Shivers coursed through the mongrel’s body as his shoulder began to ache, so much for a physical flaw. Working out with Donovan had always been tedious because of the shoulder, but the guard had convinced him otherwise, if he wanted to maintain the respect of his men. The damn thing would slip every now and then of its own volition. Both men had simply assumed it was a physical flaw.

“Where exactly on my body, Raoul, or should I say, in my body is the implant?” was the sibilant hiss. His ears throbbed with the beating of his heart. Kato, Donovan, his crew that in reality numbered in the hundreds came to mind.

Whole family units dependent on his life, living and dying under Tanagura’s radar with some semblance of freedom; This and only this was why he remained seated, desperately feigning calm.

The Elite actually looked embarrassed, watching the subtle shift of fine bones beneath pale ivory skin, while eerily patrician features strove desperately for a composure not felt.

“It was never meant to harm, Katze, I assure you of that - more of a protective measure on my part in case you fell into the wrong hands during your recovery. Things were unsettled then.”

Amber, a color that usually gave the impression of warmth, reflective of sunlight bore through him with cold, laser-like precision. If looks could kill, Raoul sighed, somewhat discomforted by the gaze.

~~~BMR~~~

Callused fingers slowly trailed down his arm raising gooseflesh before finally coming to rest on the flat of his stomach. Donovan’s warm breath ghosted across Guy’s cheek in a sensual caress.

“I know you’re awake, Guy. No point pretending.”

Guy tried to remain still despite his body’s growing responsiveness to those roughened finger tips currently wandering lower into soft pubic hair with a satisfied moan of discovery.

“What have we here, little man? Missed you too…”

Donovan thumbed the head of Guy’s cock, pressing into the damp slit, causing ribbons of coiled heat to rise in the already tautly held muscles of the mongrel’s belly.

The chestnut-haired mongrel, groaned through clenched teeth.

“Mmmm nice n’slick. Just the way I like it, baby,” the bodyguard murmured against his neck. “Bet you taste good too,” Donovan added continuing to tease, spreading pre-cum generously over the silky crown of Guy’s cock.

Bison’s de-facto leader hissed and bucked against the callused palm that gripped him, surrendering to the skilled ministrations of the bodyguard while biting his lower lip, stifling sound.

“That’s it baby, move with me.” Donovan whispered against his ear as a still damp torso shifted against the mongrel’s back and powerful hips rolled forward, matching the rhythm set by an expert palm. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck …yeah…” Guy rasped with tight shut eyes, pressing back against the rigid, hot length humping his lower back, leaving its own slick trail of need.

“Good boy, show Donny how much you like his touch.” Donovan rasped with a guttural sigh.

Why in God’s name was the fucker torturing him to death with slow wet kisses against his neck instead of holstering that weapon of his up his ass, like he knew he intended to do any minute now?

Donovan sucked the soft lobe between his lips. “Not yet, baby. You’re not ready yet.”

The palm left him bereft as his shoulders were pressed to the bedding. Here it comes. The fucker hadn’t even finished him off as a common courtesy. Guy looked up into the blazing eyes of the male straddling him. He tried to move but found his legs locking closed beneath hot viselike thighs.

Fight or flight, Riki had called moments like this. Still he allowed one paw-like hand to tether his wrists above his head, simply waiting for Donovan’s next move.

Guy watched thoroughly mesmerized by strong stomach muscles as they flexed rhythmically with each languid pump of a well practiced hand. How his mouth envied that hand.

Piercing blue eyes studied its prey, knowing full well the effect of his performance by the ready twitching member of the mongrel that begged for his attention.

Guy’s needful gaze travelled hungrily down the lean inked torso of the guard to the appreciable veined length, glistening enticingly at him. He licked his lips with a soft whimper, watching intently as the already weeping slit oozed its essence onto the thick pads of Donovan’s fingers.

That evil predatory smile again as the bodyguard examined his fingers with mild interest.

“I don’t think lube’s gonna be an issue for either of us, do you?” he asked, while carefully painting the chestnut haired mongrel’s lips with his essence, wholly satisfied by the greedy lick of Guy’s lips in acquiescence to the unspoken command.

“You like?” Donovan lowered his own head to the open panting mouth of Bison’s leader, slowly taking moist, bitter sweet lips, enjoying his own taste and the scent of Guy’s own musk upon the hand that held the mongrel’s chin steady.

“Mmmm…”

He felt it then, the slow easing of tense muscles beneath him and the warmth of a soft tongue that tentatively breeched his own lips with a dissolute groan.

Donovan lifted his head in victory as the mongrel regarded him with confused wanton expression. “Just fuck me, already. You win damn it…okay…you win.” Guy panted breathlessly.

Guy’s eyes lowered, Donovan’s perceptive gaze was too intense. “Just make it good …for both of us, this time…please.”

He felt the viselike grip ease, releasing his wrists. Donovan shifted off him with a chuckle, throwing himself on the bed companionably next to Guy. “See, was that so difficult to admit?”

The chestnut haired mongrel rose up on his elbows and stared down at the handsome face in shadow. “You have to be shitting me? You think this is a joke? I have needs you dumb fuck! In case you haven’t noticed, my cock’s confused right about now. Look at it!” Guy commanded indignantly.

Donovan glanced. “Yeah, what about it? Looks good to go.”


“One minute you’re groping me. Next you’re straddling me and preventing me from finishing the job you botched, by the way! Now this bullshit with the hands behind the head, pretendin’ to be all relaxed while your cock salutes Jupiter!!!?”

Guy jumped out of the bed as his still erect penis bobbed resentfully. He folded long muscular arms across his chest to make his point. It was difficult to look indignant butt naked, but he was determined.

“You are either gonna suck me right quick or fuck me, Mister. Which is it?! You’ve got ten seconds to decide. It’s a limited time offer, Baldy!”

Laughter had not been the intended outcome of the tirade. Guy suddenly felt stupid as Donovan continued to snigger to himself while regarding him fondly.

“Come here, little man. I’ll make it up to you.”

“No!” Guy glared, feeling suddenly unreasonable. “You can fuckin’ forget it now, Baldy. I don’t feel like it after that outburst, you crazy fuck! I’m amazed you ever get any, if this is your ‘style’.”

“I’m only gonna say it once, baby. Come’ere!”

Donovan’s tone had changed. The smile was gone from his voice. Guy checked through narrowed eyes. Yeah, if evidence was to be believed, he was clearly still interested. He sauntered to the bed with an indifferent expression. “What and don’t call me baby, kills the mood, fuckwad.”

“Get in, without the attitude and I’ll show you style, baby.”

Guy snorted and flopped onto the bed with an unimpressed glare at the ceiling. The sun was out, he hadn’t noticed but for the warm shadow currently blocking his view and those scratchy palms, making their way up his sides in a slow caress.

“Soft as a baby’s ass, I tell ya.” Donovan murmured, nuzzling the velvety skin covering a prominent hip bone.

Guy shivered in anticipation.

He supposed it was only fair to give the big ox a chance to redeem himself. If truth be told he’d caused half the rift with pretence. Not that he intended to tell him that, of course. He gasped at the ticklish feel of an explorative tongue against warm open thighs. Damn but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sucked his balls. Fuck but this was a good moment to die.

Guy’s back arched with the intimacy of touch, grasping broad shoulders that had grown damp from exertion. Oh fuck yeah, right there. That teasing swipe of flexible tongue in the hidden crevice of parted cheeks, just enough to make him want more from that hot mouth.

Yeah, he could die now and be happy, Guy thought caressing that smooth bald pate. It had never felt this good. Then again, his mind drifted. Had he ever allowed this?

Damn but those callused hands felt good as they travelled, stroked, kneaded in all the right places. Fucker smelt good too, Guy mused allowing surprisingly soft lips to find his while a long leg parted his thighs further and deft, slicked fingers found hot puckered flesh and probed.

He’d give him a chance, just this once.

~~~BMR~~~


They rode silently in the lift to the penthouse, Katze refusing to speak unless spoken too in sharp staccato tones.

Raoul’s eidetic mind reviewed the monosyllabic exchanges shared over the remainder of the meal. When had this game turned, the Elite wondered with imperious expression in place as he examined his gloves.

He handed the kit to the mongrel and smoothed gloved fingers over his tunic turning a fraction, subtly monitoring the body language of the lithe male that stood a fraction behind him with the suitably benign countenance.

The Elite took it back, very aware of how the mongrel had chosen to hold the case to avoid any personal contact.

Katze had yet to look at him properly in the last thirty minutes. Oh he was scrupulously polite and deferential in that Furniture-like way he chose to employ, knowing full well it irritated the waspish Elite.

Raoul quelled the sudden violently irrational urge to make the mongrel respond by any means. Katze had retreated to some distant space within. It was like conversing with an empty shell.

The doors opened onto the quietly elegant foyer.

“I would not recommend trying Iason’s patience at the moment, Katze.”

Katze bowed deeply – too deeply.

“Of course, Sir Am, I can remain downstairs with Stee until such time that you are ready to depart?”

The Blondie had had enough. Grasping the mongrel’s wrist he flung the kit onto the correspondence liner outside the main door and stalked towards the servant’s entrance purposefully with petulant mongrel in tow.

Katze was flushed but remained silent, examining the carpeting beneath his feet with studious concentration and thinned lips.

“Stop this ridiculous behavior immediately. It is not becoming.” Raoul whispered harshly, raising the obstinate chin. “I have not wronged you. In fact, despite my better judgment, I have always protected you, whether you knew it or not.”

Pale amber looked up with evident distrust and a hint of surprise.

Raoul’s voice had broken briefly. It was almost pleading in tone as was the way the Elite stroked his scarred cheek with a distant look. “I’ll never forgive him for this, you know, regardless of what I said at the time. It was unjust.”

Katze’s lips quirked as he looked back into sea green eyes with cold indifference, Raoul was thinking of kissing him. He would see it by the tilt of the Elite’s head and the shift in his stance.

“Yeah, well. I like it just fine, Sir Am. It’s a constant reminder of what I am – chattel to be done with as my betters see fit. Shall we go in? We shouldn’t keep his Excellency waiting.”

Gloved fingers passed over thinned lips meditatively. “I am perfectly aware of what you are attempting to do, rather badly, at the moment. It changes nothing. You will be spending the night, post Auction.”

Katze shifted his gaze in irritation and shrugged. “Yeah, cause I have nothin’ to say about it.”

Raoul actually looked amused as he patted the mongrel’s cheek and turned towards the main entrance, squaring broad shoulders. “Soooooooo predictable; you really should see about varying your routine. It wears, dear Mongrel. We both know, if touched in the right way, I could have you now.”

The dealer eased himself off the wall slowly and followed with bland expression affixed to his perfectly imperfect face.

‘Damn him.’

~~~BMR~~~


Guy stretched contentedly, grey eyes tracking the progress of the Sun’s rays across a fucking Godlike form that had been as good as its word. The serpents head fascinated and the red forklike tongue that wrapped around its tail dimpled oddly under close scrutiny.

A single digit probed the spot, a scar disguised as artwork. “So who clobbered you, Baldy?”

Dark brows furrowed in thought as Donovan tried to recall then grinned wide, blue eyes sparkling in memory. “Red, actually.”

“Red?”

Donovan cleared his throat, “The Boss aka Subzero Scarface.”

“Katze, did this?!” Guy snorted in disbelief.

The Bodyguard nodded slowly, fingering Guy’s silky mane with an unusually peaceful expression that softened the harsh yet handsome lines of his features. “I underestimated him. Never do that. He’s fast…” Donovan yawned, “…and a strong little bastard when he wants to be.”

Guy tugged at the strands being smoothed, twirled and sniffed absently.

Bison’s leader had to admit, okay so it was a weird sensation being petted in this way, but not creepy or anything. He’d let it ride for now. The thought did cross his mind though. Since the big ox liked hair so much, why the fuck didn’t he have any? The mongrel regarded the tired, handsome face anew. This was a different part of Donny Boy entirely along with the fact that it seemed Donovan had no idea about personal space.

He just kept touching. Not that he minded, but like this wasn’t part of the deal. All these soft touches like he was gonna break or something and another thing like now, this spooning shit.

What the fuck was with the spooning? Okay so it felt good and everything and fuck but he even smelt better now, all sweaty and male and shit, but there were limits. Bison’s leader sighed and allowed himself to be pulled tightly about the waist, feeling that broad chest expand and contract against his back, setting the rhythm for imminent sleep.

Guy felt their fingers entwine and allowed it with rolled eyes.

Okay, so like no one was around so…no harm done. He’d humor him for the time being. Guy closed his eyes and listened as the bodyguard recounted various adventures shared between the Boss and the guard. You’d have to be stupid not to realize that behind it all, they were friends.

“When he gets that look in his eyes, you know the one, like a predatory feline? RUN! He’d kill for sport, if really pissed. I’ve seen it. Kind of spooks even me, cause it just comes out of nowhere. Takes a lot, but he’d do it quicker than me. He hates complications. Try to never be a complication, Guy. I won’t be able to protect you next time.”

Guy yawned. “Do you ever, fuckin’ shut up? What happened to Mr. Mono…mono.”

He felt the warm gust of air against his neck that sent a warm shiver down his spine as Donovan laughed. “Monosyllabic?”

“Yeah whatever, go to sleep, Baldy. We got shit to do in a couple hours - important shit.”

Again with the kissing of his neck, seriously, Guy thought, he’d have to slap him soon, but for now, it was acceptable. Bison’s leader tightened his own grip around the paw-like hands that held him protectively close.

“Okay, baby, shutting up now.”

He’d have to do something about all that ‘baby’ crap too, he sighed. For now though, he’d let it go. There would be time enough to correct this Guy reassured himself, his own lids growing heavy, cosseted in Donovan’s warmth as he drifted to sleep.


~~~BMR~~~

Cal looked relieved. He too had clearly had a sleepless night, Katze noted as they were quietly ushered through the main entertainment space of the grand living room. The balcony was no longer shuttered, letting bright sunlight flow through the windows casting warming shadows across opulent yet reserved furnishings.

For some time now he hadn’t paid much attention to the private spaces of Iason Mink’s home, years in fact. He simply came, delivered pertinent messages best left to personal discourse and left with a modicum of refreshment, if offered.

Reserved grays and blues once dominated the luxurious space along with prized artwork intentionally chosen to underscore the wealth, intellect, and rank of Jupiter’s chosen. It was a cold, Spartan space, ideally suited to its owner’s nature.

Amber eyes caste about as his coat was quietly taken and the swish of material was heard echoing down the hall. Jupiter but it was cold, a far cry from the more organic feel of his Second-in-Command’s space. Why had he never noticed before?

“Raoul, you’re here.” Iason’s deep resonant tones spoke, pulling Katze out of his reverie as he turned to face his leader. “Katze?” Iason intoned, cold ice blue eyes regarding the mongrel speculatively, before that cool languid gaze returned to his friend.

The dealer lowered his gaze and bowed deeply, as protocol dictated, about to speak.

“No actually. I brought him. I believe the phrase is, ‘kill two birds with one stone.’ I hope it isn’t an inconvenience, Iason? How is Riki progressing?”

Was it Katze’s imagination or was Raoul being rather frosty in tone?

Iason was silent as he made a protracted study of both males noting absently the quietude about Katze and the usual stiff countenance. Raoul on the other hand had an edge to his tone. No doubt displeased with his actions of the night before. He was by nature loyal though and always had been, though he had never approved of the recalcitrant mongrel his friend had eventually chosen to bed. Then again, Riki had made no friends there bedding his prized, fecund Pet, Mimea.
The head of Syndicate’s cool gaze narrowed in memory, said incident had fostered a similar result as now. Such wanton abuse of his generosity, and the small freedoms entailed were never to be countenanced. The punishment had been just at the time.

“Cal has seen to his needs for the morning. Would you care to examine him? I must commune with Jupiter. See yourselves out when finished.”

Katze raised his head at the decidedly imperious and somewhat defensive tone. Pale knowing eyes regarded him indifferently. The dealer lowered his gaze just as Raoul inclined his head, avoiding the penetrating gaze before retrieving his kit from the low table and marching purposefully towards the Master bedroom. “Come Katze, I may need your assistance.”

“He will remain here, for the duration. Cal will see to any manner of assistance you may need.”

Raoul stilled, mid stride without turning, broad shoulders tensing briefly. “As you wish, Iason, excuse me.”

It was a rare thing indeed, but his internal strength of will failed when Raoul moved out of sight and Iason’s flawless countenance tracked his every fidget.

“I trust everything is in order for the Auction?”

“Yes, your Excellency,” Katze murmured, “Nothing of consequence to report.”

“Sit. Smoke if you wish.”

Another bow, a hesitant one, the Syndicate leader noted, determined to get to the root of the manner of diffidence on display. “Nothing to report?”

He hated this cat and mouse game Iason played when he damn well had something to say.
“No, Sir Mink and thank you.”

“Coffee then? You look about to come through your skin, Katze. I have no time for this now,” the Elite said icily, beckoning his Furniture for gloves and coat. “Full report later, it promises to be a profitable day, yes? I want a full accounting of the clients that attended by the way. There are always one or two unaccounted for visitors to the annual event.”

With relief, Katze looked up. “It most certainly does and yes, your Excellency, coffee would be appreciated.”

Excellent counter, Iason thought grudgingly. “You will not disturb Riki. He needs his rest.” he added donning his coat and headed for the door with Cal at his heels.

Katze gritted his teeth. “Of course, as you wish, your Excellency.”

It was the tone that irritated. The very same tone Raoul had used.


Author’s Note

Nothing much to say this week, I sincerely hope you enjoy as much as I did writing it. May your weekend be everything you wish for. Do let me know. Again, thank you for accompanying me on this journey.

Namaste

EP