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

Parts: WIP – 23 of ?

Reviews are fuel.

“What a Fool Believes; He sees.”
~~~
Michael McDonald

Chapter 23 of ? – Four Play (Post OVA)

Donovan’s blue-eyed gaze travelled the length and breadth of the restrained, yet expensively appointed bedroom of Raoul Am. A slow smile curved the minder’s lips as his own fine orbs locked with knowing pale citrine. Dark brows waggled teasingly, taking in the towel draped just so around lean hips. The torso looked good too. All his workouts and personal training were workin’ just fine.

“Not a fucking word.” Katze warned, sotto voce, snagging the clothing sac from Donovan’s grip ignoring the lewd grin plastered across the bodyguard’s face.

Defensively the dealer marched with head held high towards the dressing room before stopping mid stride and examining the elongated carry all.


“Right breast pocket and the clips are in the left.”

Katze nodded, refusing to be mollified by the forethought. He’d wipe that smug expression off Donovan’s face yet.

“Black? That is all you could think of?”

“Shirt’s white, that’s my doin’ by the way.” Donovan countered smugly, examining the blunt nails of his paw-like hand before delicately nibbling at a cuticle. “You overdo the black-on-black theme,” he sniffed superciliously.

The dealer gave a warning glare that was entirely lost on the budding fashionisto.

“Just be grateful, Boss. Left to Kato, you’d have been quite the fashion statement, had to rein him in.”

Sparkling blue eyes returned their attention to the rumpled bedding that apparently had seen some recent wear. Someone had been busy. Again, his bright, inquisitive gaze rested meaningfully upon the draped towel resting low upon the broker’s hips with more curiosity than was strictly seemly for one in Katze’s employ.

Katze actually blushed, moving with renewed purpose towards the dressing room. “It’s not what you think, pervert.”

“Suuuuuurrrrrrrre.”

“Not all of us think with our lower extremities.”

“Why not? Works for me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Too late, Boss man, should have spoken up sooner.”

Auburn brows twitched, somewhat confused by the seeming non-sequitur. “I don’t even want to know, do I?”

“I’m taken, apparently.”

The Bodyguard grinned at the shocked, nay horrified, expression on his boss’ face just as the en suite slammed shut, and he was left uncomfortably alone in the quiet bedroom.

“You’re even beginning to sound like him? Have you noticed?”

Rare was the opportunity to tease his Boss without exacting his ire.

“I’m warning you... fuck. These trousers are too tight. Kato knows better.”

No way in hell he was gonna pass this up.

“Dare I ask? Maybe a cold shower, or even better, I could go get your Blondie. I’m sure he’d volunteer his services in sorting your inseam to your total satisfaction.”

“Enough already! Drop it!”

Sniggering softly Donovan approached the closed door, stopping to notice the discarded volume upturned on a throw or more precisely the drawn anatomical depictions of the humanoid male form, dissected into rudimentary parts and types.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear to fuckin’ Jupiter you’d been drinking, Donovan.”

He’d never been this close to an Elite’s quarters before, kinda disappointing really. He’d thought it would be more ornate, flashy even. Spooky how their tastes matched in the costly appointments; books, music, and enough silk to drown in, just to name a few obvious items.

“Are you even listening to me?” Katze asked into the sudden stillness. “Don’t go touching anything in there. He’ll have a shit fit.”

A cold shiver ran up Donovan’s spine as his eyes drifted with growing suspicion back to the anatomically correct depiction of a mongrel male. The fuckin’ book had to be at least a couple hundred years old and yet, the profile was familiar; he’d have to ask the Boss about that. Now that he had a proper look, it wasn’t just one, it was three basic types. One in particular was eerily familiar.

“So Boss, you tellin’ me you lookin’ all flushed ain’t got nothin’ whatsoever to do with the Elite currently boring holes in the android shit’s back on the balcony?”

The answer to his query came from behind in the form of a deep, menacing register. He’d know that imperious, silken cadence anywhere.

Donovan spun on one heel automatically assuming a defensive crouch, drawing his laser pistol instinctively as he glared back into menacing eyes. The bodyguard holstered his weapon slowly and stood, cracking his spine in open irritation. This fucker had been right up his ass most of last night and today. It just wasn’t fair he couldn’t take him out without harming the Boss.

“This is of concern to you, exactly how, mongrel?”

They were sneaky shits and practically glided on air when stalking. Donovan cracked his back again and stood to his full formidable height, crossing his arms across his chest with what he hoped was subtle menace. A menace the Elite would not be able to act upon.

“Know your place.”

With a barely perceptible nod of feigned deference to the glacial being now taking him apart with ice cold sea green eyes, the bodyguard re-iterated.

“No offense meant, Sir Am.”

“Offense taken, Donovan,” Raoul retorted with a sibilant hiss, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Again...no offense, Sir Am. Thought this was a private convo between my Boss and me. He’s my responsibility. Anything or anyone that affects him is my concern, Sir Am. Not that you’d understand, but I’d die for him.”

Raoul’s lips thinned as he levelled the tall, well muscled male with a blank stare. The man was practically preening in his presence, daring him to act. However subtle the stance taken, Donovan was being territorial.

“Such leading queries of a personal nature, particularly as I feature in the subject, will not be tolerated in my abode. This is not Ceres and you are nothing more than a servile, here on my sufferance. Never forget that.”

Donovan ground his teeth almost biting his tongue, cerulean eyes becoming gray as flint, never leaving that perfectly designed face.

Raoul glanced dismissively at the minder, noting the throbbing vein in the mongrel’s forehead and the scarring over his eye obviously from some distant encounter. In passing, Raoul did wonder as he headed for the en suite, what the other man looked like who had gifted him with this memento. Unfortunately Donovan chose that very moment to step directly into Raoul’s path, stilling the Elite’s progress.

Bottle green eyes narrowed. The utter gall of the mongrel, who now that he gave it thought and in such close proximity appeared a mere three to four inches shorter. Odd, not something he had previously given much thought to, but the anomaly was worth noting. Katze had chosen well.

“You have made your delivery. Join Admon on the balcony. I will take it from here.”

The bow was slow and unexpected, though those insolent blue eyes remained fixed on the Elite’s face a fraction too long before glancing away. Donovan abruptly turned and headed for the door, opening it a fraction before murmuring softly under his breath.

Raoul turned slowly on his heels and glared at the back of the bald pate with open derision on his perfect countenance.

“Would you care to repeat that threat, mongrel?”

Donovan did not blink, a slow malicious smile overtaking his face as he turned and stared back into livid green, willing the fight to come to a head.

“You heard me, Sir Am.”

Enough was quite enough, Raoul thought as his heart raced in a new and gratifying way. His senses heightened by the sudden unexpected flow of adrenalin that coiled in the Blondie’s gut while his muscles trembled for a different manner of release upon approach.

With protracted effort, barely able to contain the snarl within his voice, Raoul hissed into Donovan’s face.

“You dare to give me orders?”

The stolid, almost inhuman expression on the minder’s countenance was disconcerting. “No, I’ve said my piece. Consider it a warning.”

Raoul’s gloved hand grasped Donovan’s thick neck. No response. “I could snap your neck so easily.”

Donovan coughed, but did not try to extricate himself from the Elite’s hold as he struggled for air.

“Don’t hurt him, Sir Am,” The Bodyguard rasped between clenched teeth, as his eyes began to water, and still he did not move. “You’re probably the only one that can.”

The Elite slowly loosened his hold and continued to stare into bright cerulean eyes. Curious, the mongrel’s gaze never faltered despite his wind pipe being squeezed painfully and yet he had not backed down in the face of his own potential imminent demise; most curious, indeed.


Roughly rubbing his throat with a callused palm Donovan leaned forward, his voice a rasping whisper in the Elite’s ear, just as the bathroom door opened.

Katze cleared his throat softly from behind, leaning against the open bathroom door. His expression unreadable, his honeyed gaze travelled over the unexpected tableau of Raoul Am, facing off with his personal minder.

“Donovan, leave now. Go join Admon on the balcony. I need to speak with Sir Am.”

The guard nodded, slamming the bedroom door in the Elite’s face.

It had been worth it that fraction of a second when he heard the Blondie’s sharp intake of breath at what he probably considered an empty threat.

It wasn’t.

There’d be nowhere to hide, if he harmed Katze. Even if it cost him his life; a small price to pay considering.

~~~BMR~~~

Regarding his form in the mirror Katze smoothed the suit jacket, enjoying the feel of fine woven silk beneath his fingers. The gun wasn’t apparent and that was the point.

“When Donovan senses a threat to what he knows or understands, he gets reactive. I apologize and beg your indulgence, Sir Am.”

Raoul glowered at Katze’s reflection, still piqued by the effrontery of this lowlife who had chosen to threaten him, his obvious superior. He didn’t much like being warned off his possessions, particularly the attractive redheaded variety currently studying him in the mirror.

As always when regarding the Ceres mongrel, his loins intervened, circumventing rational thought. What he wouldn’t give to bend him over right about now.

“You’d want him at your back in a fight. He didn’t mean it, Sir Am. He’s all about honour. I need him to survive in Ceres.”

“Stop defending him, Katze.”

The broker turned, pale eyes narrowed as he carefully approached the livid Elite. “No. He’s doing what I would have done in his position. If you want to take it out on anyone, take it out on me. I’m his superior, not you.”

Katze saw the bunching of material and the slow rippling waves of muscular broad shoulders beneath costly silk. Raoul had yet to bother to change for their outing in Mistral. He was wearing his gloves however, that was interesting and that ever present bulge between lithe hips gave the entire game of aggression away. Raoul wanted, no needed to vent in more ways than one.

“Do not test me now, Katze.” Raoul retorted through gritted teeth.

Sighing softly Katze got on his knees and slowly, carefully began undoing the Elite’s buckle while maintaining the frozen gaze. “One of us needs a blowjob to work out those kinked muscles.”

A gloved hand stopped the mongrel’s progress as the zipper was lowered. “You are doing this for him, to protect him?”

Katze shrugged, affecting a wan smile. “It’s either this or fight, Raoul. I’m not up to fighting you. We both know I’d lose. This way, you get to dominate me and get it out of your system, cause there’s nothin’ like seeing your seed dripping from another’s mouth to put right the world, I’ve been told.”

Raoul’s grip loosened as he hurriedly discarded his gloves, preferring now to sift soft silky hair the colour of flames between his fingers. He closed his eyes, revelling in the feel of those hot fingers as they glided the metal clasp down, revealing his already engorged member to the cool air.

Abstractedly he noted how skilfully Katze peeled the fitted trousers from his hips, enjoying the feel of long fingers smoothing and soothing the tense muscles of his abdomen beneath his shirt, ignoring the proud length of his manhood, eventually coming to rest over his cheeks with a firm grip.

“Tell me what you want, Raoul,” Katze murmured softly, his smooth shaven cheek nuzzling soft pubic hair. Raoul groaned in anticipation leaning forward allowing that wet, hot tongue’s tip to glide teasingly up the distended vein that pulsed at the base of his cock.

The Elite’s breath hitched, when a strong hand gripped him determinedly and began to pump slowly, while that skilled tongue sucked, stroked, and licked, keeping time with the slow undulations of lean hips.

Raoul gasped. It was not nearly enough, Katze was quite wrong. “You. I want you.”

Too preoccupied with his current task the mongrel moaned softly, partially distracted by the urge to attend to his own growing need. He’d have to make a pit stop after this, but for now this was good, he thought taking as much of Raoul as he could within the slick wetness of his mouth, enjoying the feel of the Elite’s living flesh and his scent. Not a bad start to the day, if he thought so himself, breathing in the subtle musk of his Elite.

Raoul tugged at the spun silk between his fingers, willing the mongrel’s head up and away from his own bliss. Katze’s flushed face, invitingly moist parted lips and lust hazed eyes held their own question, quickly masked, but for the softly spoken words of immediate need. “Then have me, now, Raoul, before it’s too late.”

Surrendering to the thought, Raoul caressed the mongrel’s scarred cheek. Katze did not flinch. That was a first, in fact, he openly welcomed the touch.

With a decidedly lewd beckoning motion, the mongrel’s guttural command to fuck his mouth almost caused the Elite to cum all over that exquisitely imperfect face. Raoul bit his lower lip to divert the titillating thought of kissing that cum drenched mouth while he plundered that tight, hot orifice again and again come nightfall. Only then would he be sated of this abnormal desire, while Katze’s form quickened beneath his in surrender.

The Elite sighed languidly with eyes tight shut basking in the feel of that slick haven and the flexible tongue that welcomed his pulsing girth with a satisfied moan. For now, this would have to be enough. He had yet to taste of his mongrel in kind, but that too would soon be rectified.

~~~BMR~~~

Admon crushed the fragile bud within his palm, pensively gazing at the horizon. Everything was here as anticipated. The portrait, the box and the faded memories of his Master’s past life inextricably wound to that of the pompous Elite currently being serviced with genuine passion, though cloaked as compromise. Such fools, they all were really.

The vision passed beneath closed eyelids of twisted limbs upon the bedding and the sharp cry of the mongrel in ecstasy as the Elite mounted him from behind, unable to resist the delectable presentation of Katze on all fours. Admon’s lips thinned trying to control the jealousy that rested unhealthily in his gut.

His eyes danced beneath his lids while Donovan watched from across the balcony with suspicion as the thorny bud dripping blood was released from his palm, falling to the soft green moss beside his feet.

Admon knew the guard would not approach him in his current state - most advisable for the guard’s longevity.

The bleeding would stop of its own accord. It felt good. A prick, a focal point for his misery while continuing to watch the rhythmic flexing of taut gluts as the Elite’s slick member forcefully impaled the panting mongrel beneath him again and again.

He could not hear the primal cries or the words exchanged, but he watched nonetheless, rapt, envious of the Elite palming the blushing length of the mongrel in time and lazily licked of the sweat upon the dealer’s neck while continuing to mindlessly claim Katze’s flesh.

They were beautiful together, both forms cleaving to the ancient humanoid dance oblivious to the fact they were surrendering to their past, unable to bear fruit from their union though intertwined.

Admon paused, his face growing almost angelic in thought.

Perhaps that had much to do with the tireless drive of it, the unrequited need to take and be taken in equal measure.

Admon shivered as Katze came in wrenching pulses, his body slackening beneath the predatory male that still rode him with gritted teeth and an echoing shout not heard beyond his soul’s reach.

It was the sudden stillness that caught the android’s attention then. That silence so profound which always followed completion, his pupils dilated while their bodies trembled in slowly fading quakes and normalcy returned from the preternatural hormonal high they had shared.

He gazed upon the subtle shift of body atop the mongrel’s and admired the long fingered hand that reached behind, smoothing, carding matted tendrils with reverence. The fingers were caught and kissed with equal reverence, understanding the request to remain still within the sated form beneath.

The Karinese understood all too well, why and what of Katze’s silent request. Not so the Elite, he was sure, nuzzling the long elegant neck with renewed interest. Raoul only saw fatigue and complied. It was no hardship to be buried deep in his mongrel.

Admon’s perfect brows knitted. Memory was everything for the mongrel in question. Eventually the Elite would come to understand why, but it would be too late. With the Master’s imminent return all would change, irrevocably.

Katze knew this instinctively and so was holding on to the last vestiges of what he held to be a perfect moment, covetously stroking the cooling body atop his, consigning it to memory.

“We’re gonna be late at this rate. What in hell are they doin’ in there?”

Admon blinked, pulled from his inner sight by Donovan’s still rasping voice.

The Karinese’s eyes narrowed with malicious glee, pleased with the sight of the Elite’s finger marks still upon that overly thick neck.

How interesting the difference of those self same hands now holding the mongrel gently, lifting the dealer into powerful arms, resting the damp auburn head upon a broad shoulder, carrying their burden to the en suite and while kissing the broker’s tired brow.

“They will be done soon, Donovan. Have patience. Passion requires it.”

Donovan’s dark expressive brows rose as he pointed in the general direction of the bedroom and eased himself off the balcony wall.

“You mean, they’re... We don’t have time for this shit.”

Admon smiled secretively, regarding his bleeding palm with a distant expression. “There is always time for requited passion, Donovan, never forget that. It is what separates you from me. Relish it. It is all you have, as human.”


~~~BMR~~~

Foreboding filled the air with the paced click that echoed down the private debarkation port. The duty officer frowned as the echo came closer and yet the person, the rather tall person, still remained in shadow.

He just wanted his bed. Pulling triple duty for the sake of extra credits had its price, fatigue and irritability chiefly amongst them. It was then he saw her. No question in his mind or loins for that matter it was a female.

Bare feet no less, statuesque didn’t cover it. Come to think of it, very little was covering much of anything, but for the strategic placement of flowing material, a veiled attempt at modest, for which his senses were thankful and now fully awake.

She almost glowed amidst the seemingly liquid dance of crimson against pale, pearlescent skin. Each graceful step a silent tome to perfection, but for the face shadowed by a deep cloak and the less than comforting sight of a laser tipped rod of some unidentified metallic material. It has been responsible for the clicking sound, not the male that followed a pace or two behind, definitely Elite and a Ruby but with a difference.

No flowing tresses, a single thick braid of the most vibrant vermillion hue he had ever seen. Surely it had been helped. They were a vain lot but contained, not so this one. Dark silks covered his tall lean body, reminiscent of the cloak she wore but in black, heightening his almost inhuman pallor and perfect countenance.

Very little sun apparently where he had previously been lurking. The shimmer of golden loops adorned his ears, only serving to set his physical eccentricities off and that smile that had been taking in the little man with no small amount of amusement in pale, cold yellow eyes.

Unconsciously, the portly man brushed back thinning greasy hair and made a valiant attempt to pull in his ample gut. It was all about the first impression after all.
He hadn’t even noticed the female had stopped in front of him and placed identification discs upon the desk. “Sir Niiro of Amoi and his consort, Ajna-001 of Karin,” she offered lowering the cowl revealing startling, ruby red eyes and a perfectly bald pate.

Some days, the officer acknowledged, it just wasn’t worth the extra credit. These two were trouble. He just knew it.

No way in hell an ex-Pat Elite of clear social standing would be heading to Midas voluntarily and not Tanagura. Sure they had passed muster frighteningly fast. Documentation approved within the blink of an eye, but they were marked within an instant of recognition by the powers that be.

He shook his head watching the duo leave, their minions following behind with enough cargo to sink a carrier. Short visit his ass.

No good could come of this. He read the display again, noting the thin pink line that suddenly appeared beneath the Elite’s name, Mistral Auction Attendee. Oh yeah, the shit was about to hit the fan.

Author’s Note

Minor tweaks and now I can put this chapter to rest. I really, hope you enjoyed the intrigue as all the pieces on the chessboard take their place.

EP