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 – 33

Reviews are fuel.


"I smile.

Like a siren’s call, the light of dusk caresses, giving depth to the shadowed light that is the close of day and coming of night. And still I smile with your palm in mine. How remarkable that faint tremor as your breath catches in the moment that silken shroud of darkness falls, obliterating the Sun.

Consistent... for this, I smile."
~~~
Opening lines, The Kimono, .J. Westmoreland

Chapter 33 of ? – By Design (Post OVA)


With a deep exhalation Katze leaned heavily on the main entrance doors of the Mink penthouse. Glad to be rid. The debrief had been lengthy to say the least, but Iason was relatively content, profit wise, not so much by the antics of the Ruby and his retinue in their currently favoured abode.

There had been complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Pressing the lift button that promised freedom, Katze sighed. No doubt Raoul expected him to make a detour to his flat for the evening, but duty called and in some ways, Katze was beyond thankful. Something had irrevocable changed between them both this afternoon. He’d almost blown it. That carefully tended exterior he prided himself on was beginning to crack.

No, this was better. He’d deal with the irate Blondie in the morning after a full night of rest that did not involve various parts of his anatomy co-joined with his Elite. Delightful as it was, there was a time and place.

Anyway, he needed to check on Donovan. Something was definitely off there. The man had been incapable of looking at him when both he and Raoul had come down the stairs. Not even after the limousine departed, taking the Elite back to his own residence had the marked tension decreased between them.

Sure, he’d done the right thing and showed the right amount of respect in front of the other men, but something was definitely off in his manner. A pointed distance had formed in fact. Hell he even managed to fit in that little inconvenience they had both spoken off in the games room, never the most pleasant aspect of their black market careers, getting rid of dead wood.

Katze hadn’t had to lift a finger. The body had been dispensed with. The head brought back for identification purposes, its mouth full of credit notes for surety before being set on the backstreet’s makeshift pyre as a warning.

The stout, albeit somewhat stale, no point wasting a good brew on the denizens, was served freely in the alley to the milling throng who grasped at the paper notes, emptying the still open mouth that looked to be silently screaming now, frightened sightless eyes still open.

Those attending full well understood their role in the proceedings, liquid payment and hard credit for disseminating the news of another receiving his just desserts. There but for the grace of Subzero Scarface was implicit in the act. They were to speak loudly and freely of the event.

A good crowd overall, Katze congratulated himself without joy, bending forward so the identification laser could scan his iris before allowing him to descend in the lift.

He shook his head, remembering the authorized thugs of Midas Security, who paid no more than lip service and cursory inspection of the ashes.

Just another day’s close, the Black Market dealer thought, his own stomach plummeting as the lift rapidly descended and his thoughts were brought back to his Number One.

‘What the fuck was with Donovan? Had something happened with Sid? Was he getting worse?’

Katze had been so wrapped in his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the abrupt halt of the lift as it changed direction and he stepped out, noting for the first time it wasn’t hard cement beneath his well shod feet, but a rather familiar deep, plush teal rug.

‘Had he pressed the wrong number subconsciously?’ disoriented Katze retraced his steps to the lift. The auto scanner hadn’t responded. Amber brows furrowed briefly in consternation as he regarded the monitor and the security dial. It wouldn’t do to take the damn thing apart, nor was it an option to find the emergency exit. It always woke the dead and he had never been granted access, except as Furniture. ‘What to do?’

He looked up to the trap door meant only for extreme urgency.

“How long are you going to stand there contemplating that delectable navel of yours? Would it not be easier to come in as you should have done in the first place? There is no escape, Katze of Ceres. Our meal will grow cold and there is no point looking pinched and displeased upon hearing my voice. I demand your presence.”

Katze wondered briefly as he stepped back onto the deep pile, noting for the first time the shadowed presence leaning on the door’s frame, about the merit of slowly, luxuriantly strangling his lover, post a deep wet kiss to sanctify the act.

‘Why bother.’

The dealer sighed aloud and accepted his fate walking forward with wide flung arms in utter defeat as warm lips took his and that ever resilient hard body conformed to his.

Another semi-despondent sigh, why couldn’t his feet feel the threshold? Oh yeah he was being manhandled again by the overbearing Blondie. But did it actually matter when that delicious tongue was playing the moist sanctum of his mouth so expertly and the damn man smelt so good to boot?

No, it really didn’t matter about being plastered to his form and feeling the slide of skin warmed silk against his torso. Nope, it didn’t really matter either that his legs were being jogged up and around a lean waist by those long fingers in a fearsome grip that cupped his backside.

He was conscious of his breathing, unable to concentrate on the most rudimentary of thoughts slowly drowning in the verdant depths peering inquiringly back at him. Hard pressed to ignore the deafening beat of his heart or his suddenly leaden tongue, he did finally note that Raoul’s lips were actually moving.

That deep resonance was trying to intruding on his foggy bliss but for the life of him he couldn’t fathom what was being imparted. His own fingers, endlessly fascinated by the soft mouth before him stopped the distracting movement of Raoul’s lips but too late to stop the wet importunate tongue from darted between his digits that sent shivers down his spine and straight to his loins.

‘Why was Raoul chuckling?’

Somewhere in the haze of his fog addled mind, another sense kicked in. Something rather delicious, other than Raoul Am, was in the air. He was hungry.

His stomach began growling embarrassingly loudly in the palpable silence shared as they took in each other’s full measure.

“What’s for dinner, Sir Am?”

The smile on Raoul’s face was positively lewd as he kicked the door shut, contentment radiating from every pore well pleased with the handful of mongrel that fit perfectly within his arms, as if by design.

“You promised.” Katze managed slipping one long arm from about the Elite’s neck, and sliding down a smooth well muscled flank. Even to his own ears, the protest was pathetic and lacked teeth, teeth like the ones nibbling his neck in answer.

“I keep my word, Katze. You will rest here tonight, after a good meal.”

The dealer bit his lower lip, one auburn brow rising suspiciously.

“Riiiight, so what’s that then,” he jogged his hips, “you taken to ‘dressing’ arms less than discreetly, Sir Am?”

“Aren’t you clever? Unlike mongrels, we Elite are perfectly capable of quelling such base desires when appropriate. To employ an antiquated term, Katze, you look like Hell.”

The dealer’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t start. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Not for want of trying, my dear Katze. As I observed, you were Hell bent on a timely escape back to your imagined warren of safety.”

Katze glared at his capture to no avail. “Iason was challenging tonight.”

“And this is news to you? This is par for the course, Katze. You have withstood far worse inquisitions.”

“True. Just not up to any more challenges for the night, if you know what I mean?” Katze stated flatly, eyeing the Elite meaningfully allowing a wry smile to grace his lips. Absently he fingered the recalcitrant lock of hair that was Raoul’s bane. “Yeah, well. I tried. You won.”

“But of course. Eventually you will learn to accept your fate with a modicum of grace and dignity instead of always scurrying away in an attempt to avoid the eventual summons that would have come.” Raoul purred, leaning into the wholly enjoyable sensation of Katze’s long dexterous fingers as they massaged the base of his skull with rhythmic precision.


Gently he lowered the mongrel to the carpeting and beamed at his captive, moderately amused that despite the redhead’s words implying annoyance, Katze still clung to him; most pleasing and meriting a reward of lips meeting lips softly. He felt the smile in the first brief and tremulous exchange that did send wanton tremors through his own form at the contact.

Katze breathed in clean smelling spun silk as Raoul’s head lowered towards his parted lips again intent on deepening the first kiss. He felt the mongrel stiffen within his grasp and sighed.

“Just to allay your fears, Katze, I have no intentions of pressing my attentions upon your person. Though I hasten to add, that revolver you favour appears to be twitching against my right hip with likeminded zeal.”

Amber eyes narrowed with feigned menace at the half hearted censure. “You talk too much. Just kiss me, Sir Am.”

Raoul complied with all due alacrity and infinite skill.

Jupiter but he felt good and smelt even better. No wait, Katze think. Need to establish some rules of conduct for tonight. The first time you left here with your tail between your legs. This kissing shit was dangerous. Oh fuck yeah, right there. No. No. No. Think of Donovan. Need to go back and speak with him. Get your hands out of there Raoul! How dare him do this? Yes. Yes. Like that. Fuckin brain was melting again, swept away literally down the hall towards the bedroom. Where was Deek? NOT GOOD! Never did buy that bullshit about self control, there was nothing controlled about that ravenous mouth or the teeth working on his shirt. Damn...wasn’t just that tongue that had skills either. Nice job, most of the buttons remained intact, wouldn’t have to charge him for this one. What the hell did he mean, he looked like hell?

Katze blinked, finding himself atop the bed and exceedingly breathless, but feeling rather cold as Raoul’s substantial frame lifted from his. He moaned in protest before propping himself upon his elbows and glared indignantly at the object of his need.

“Hello? What happened to the detailed inventory of my larynx you were taking? Come back here and finish what you started.”

Again with the smiling; Now that he got a proper look at his Elite, abstinence was losing its lustre. After all, there were myriad ways of getting them both off in short order. The problem was Raoul didn’t really look all that interested at the moment, more smug than anything else with all that mussed hair and dominant stance at the bottom of the bed.

Fuck but he looked edible. Not much on either, totally unfair. Since when did he wear crimson of any hue? What had caused that momentary shiver and the glazed look?

Raoul shivered, wondering abstractly if Kato had remembered to bring the liquefied chocolate to appease his mongrel’s propensity to be orally fixated. The dishevelled mongrel presented quite the edible picture atop his bed. Hair askew, clothing equally so, just a hint of blushing skin where buttons had been hurriedly undone and those mesmerizing eyes, like trapped sunlight, drinking in his own form appreciatively. By now, he knew that look well and all its sensual implications.

One of them had to show some level of self-control, the night was young and there would be time enough to quell the fire in those amber depths in myriad ways. By dawn the mongrel might well come to loathe the taste of chocolate, he did seem to prefer savoury.

It mattered not. Soon the rare and costly treat would afford him the unparallel delight of torturing his mongrel to near insanity and he intended to show no mercy.

“Even I have my limits, Katze. Cover yourself.” Raoul chuckled languidly swiping a thick lock of spun gold from a decidedly perfect countenance. “Avail yourself of all the amenities. You will find a suitable garment for the evening in there,” the Elite pointed. “Come out in twenty minutes. No sooner. I have a surprise for you before dinner.”

Dazed, the dealer watched as the robed Elite sauntered from the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a final click. It was then he heard the running bath water and noted the fireplace had been lit.

He knew seduction when he saw it.

In passing as he stripped with an evil predatory grin, the dealer wondered if chocolate was on the menu. If so, someone’s cock would be painted with it, by the end of the night and this time, he intended to get his fill in more ways than one.

Raoul would be on the receiving end tonight.

~~~BMR~~~


Admon was pensive. Admon was always pensive. Tonight however, it was different. His Master’s soul held untrammelled joy and pent anticipation, a first for the fragile being who kept himself sacrosanct in the affairs of men.

He was in love, another first which made him both vulnerable and invulnerable to logic.

Mutual chemistry, those two always had it from the first time they met. All he could hope was that it would serve the evening’s proceedings well. The pompous Elite would be tested this night. His personal choice, still unclear to the keen mind that lay on the periphery seeking a space to slink in unobserved. For the second time Admon wondered about Raoul Am and how well he knew his line and how much they had in common, even if his empathic abilities remained dormant.

Donovan, however, Admon had never liked him. Too wilful, too coy and desires latent, honed from their mark by discipline. Oh, Admon had known the first time he saw him and perhaps therein lay the seed of Donovan’s hatred. He had always seen it. The Irrational One was the right choice. The thrust and parry of limbs as others served to meet the need long held in abeyance, until Guy. Yet subtly, quietly, stealthily, it was there and had always been there and probably always would.

Admon pursed his lips, skimming the hours that had passed since mid afternoon. It had been the right thing, a useful thing to call forth the guard’s ire. Make him climb those stairs in irritation so he could experience the rightness of them as a pair, as lovers. Katze was a choice that could never be made. There had never been an invite for the passing thought, the furtive gaze, the odd wet dream, the unhallowed wish.

Guy was a different story. They were well met in their raw passions and both compensated for the other’s ineptitudes. Well met, indeed, his rightful pair for the time being.

Admon turned his face to the door, moderately amused as he heard the bodyguard stalking the outer halls, stopping once or twice at his room door full of indecision. The Karinese closed his eyes anticipating the pre-emptive knock that came shortly thereafter.

Pale lips curved maliciously. Decision made. He knew how much it would kill the minder to ask, to even think of posing the question that would undoubtedly come from this next encounter.

Admon gathered his robe about him with a suitably demure expression affixed to his perfect face as he spoke the fateful words of invite.

“Come in.”

The cerulean glow within the care worn face spoke volumes as they glided over the preternaturally attractive being occupying the bed with a languid air of expectancy.

“Ask. It serves my Master to aid your kind.”

Folding powerful arms across his chest, Donovan frowned and kicked the door shut. He was in charge here.

Bright ruby eyes sparkled coldly up at the male who moved towards him with malevolence in his powerful strides.

“Outward aggression will not serve you in this instance, Donovan. A facile mind can so easily be overcome. Case in point...”

The guard flinched at the rejoinder before beginning to shiver uncontrollably. A sudden cold chill seeping into his sinews, like an ancient cloak that carried with it dis-ease and foreboding, Admon was not what he appeared.

“You have been warned, Donovan. Now take me to your kin. I will do my best for my Master in this instance.”

Donovan snarled and grasped Admon’s arm in a steely grip, propelling him from his perch upon the bed and flinging him towards the door. The Karinese’s back connected with full kinetic force, the same distant smile upon his flawless face as he looked at his arm, where the imprint of the guard’s large hand had been. The android smoothed his opposing hand over the bruising flesh with feigned amusement.

The guard blinked in amazement as the finger marks disappeared before his own eyes with the gentle pass of long, expressive fingers over the injured flesh.

“And still you persist in making an enemy of Karin-AD-003, most unwise, Donovan. Considering how much you have to lose, I find this attitude of yours intriguing.”

Quietly the minder trailed behind the lithe figure, his teeth grinding at the soft derisive titter coming from those perfect lips.

He just knew it was at his expense, but a strong sense of self preservation told him in the arch of Admon’s back to keep his distance from the viperous predator that strode before him. To top it all off on this fuck-all-shit of a night, he was going to miss his date with Guy.

This just wasn’t his day or night for that matter.


~~~BMR~~~

Twenty minutes.

Raoul had been very precise about the timing of his entrance.

Curiosity aside, Katze was in a quandary about his chosen apparel.

It was white, simple, and reminiscent of robe he once owned while in his Excellency’s service as Furniture and more to the point, like the one he had worn that fateful day. He studied his reflection, examined his teeth for something to do before his eyes returned to his robe. Not that impressive. Not even vaguely alluring by choice, unlike the dark silky number that still remained in its vestment sac, not chosen.

There was the other matter too, he thought brushing back his damp hair. Raoul had yet to bring up the subject of the journal. He grimaced at his profile self-consciously.

What was the point of shielding the scar beneath his signature forelock? It wasn’t as if Raoul was repulsed by it. Displeased yes, repulsed no. Katze sighed, critiquing the voluminous robe before returning to the scar. The Elite’s discerning eyes passed over the disfigurement frequently, but had not made mention of it for some time.

The dealer glared at his reflection in the mirror appraising the being looking back at him superciliously. Subconsciously his lips thinned with displeasure, probably the same look he wore when vetting new acquisitions for the club. No way to hide it. He looked pale and haggard under the unforgiving light. Raoul was right.

He did look like hell with the shadows of obvious fatigue under deep set amber eyes.

Raoul did and said nothing without reason. He’d learnt that about all of them. There was no question in his mind the disparity between both robes had been a conscious gambit, comfort or seduction. It was up to the dealer.

Feeling suddenly despondent his mind catalogued the day, remembering the journal as his fingers examined the soft filmy material of the vestment bag and glided the closure open. It didn’t hurt to look considering the effort made in its choosing.

What would the Elite do with the information he had previously left him? Hell of a risk, but aggressive probing would not do tonight. Sometimes real power lay in the delicacy of force, he reminded himself, thoroughly entranced by the cool material beneath his fingers. He’d take his cues from Raoul.

Of this he was sure. This was a test, perhaps even of memory, their first meeting.

Katze smiled, finally understanding the game of choice for what it was. The first move was his to make. The past versus the present, who he was in youth and who he had become in the fullness of maturity.

Without conscious thought he slipped the robe from his shoulders and allowed it to puddle at his naked feet, refolding it with the air of reverence it was due before placing it on the vanity to be retrieved by Deek. That one would always be a spiteful bastard. Katze chuckled softly imagining the fit of pique when the Furniture found it. He had no doubt it would be destroyed at the first opportunity out of sight of his Master.

Five minutes to go.

It was a perfect fit in its simple lines that complemented his angular frame.

He turned and casually observed the effect of the kimono and its crimson lining against his skin. It gave him a somewhat healthier complexion, from pallid gray to glowing porcelain.

Four minutes to go.

Languidly he sniffed the varied unguents, all familiar, save for one that had not been there the last time ‘Amber Lust’.

The dealer studied his reflection again. It wasn’t his imagination there was a marked improvement, definitely something he would have chosen with its understated elegance and the fluidity of its lines.

Critical amber eyes surveyed the flow of the material, his eyes caught by the rich tones of the lining once more, particularly that of the right sleeve that bore a distinctive form of sewn calligraphy for want of better words.

He had felt the embossed threading against his forearm but had not given it much thought until now. With furrowed brows he folded back the sleeve with curious fingers, his breath caught by the unexpected and wholly familiar sight, the double helix.

Was this Raoul’s answer to his question?
The Ruby’s familial symbol and his, the double helix; hard to fathom really that they could share something other than a love for Raoul Am and the superficiality that was appearance, that several had mentioned to the Ruby’s utter annoyance.

Katze shook his head trying to make sense of it as his fingers passed over the exquisite embroidery in awe.

Probably just some recessive genes at work, he was a child of the Abyss. Their collective genome had been the source material that had created the differing castes of Elites centuries before. It would also explain his likeness to her these eons later.

It was also why their sect secretly saw him as leader despite the improbability of his birth. Still no records to document the fact; frustrating beyond measure considering he found the other’s antecedence from what was left of the journals they held sacred.

Today he had played his hand in hopes of garnering Raoul’s help by giving him the journal, even with Admon’s prophetic words echoing sharply in his mind’s eye.


Trust did not come easily. Only time would tell indeed if he had made the right decision and if it would lead to his imagined fall or that of his peers as Donovan suggested. He’d made a similar unspoken deal so long ago when the Elite had made his unexpected entrance that sunny, quiet day into the Mink household catching him unawares.

His eyes moved to the chronometer on the wall. Two minutes could stretch to an eternity, as now. Two minutes to think. Two minutes to revisit what was being implicitly said in a simple aesthetic choice. If he was right Raoul’s answer to the unspoken had been woven delicately into the sleeve of this robe.

Could he trust the elegant simplicity of the answer, they did nothing by halves Jupiter’s chosen flock.

It was time.

Taking a deep breath he opened the bedroom door expectantly, his patently neutral gaze flat, unsure of what he would find. The twins held sway tonight as always obliterating all else in the heavens their brightness casting a pewter blue shadow over the seated silhouette sipping his brandy unhurriedly and enjoying the view.

Though he could not see them readily from this distance, Katze knew the stars were out amidst the ink silvered sheen that was the sky’s reflection through the screen like triptych of the expansive windows that brought the skies of Tanagura within the cosseted silence.

Katze’s lips quirked at the sight; Raoul was the definition of indolent perfection. He wondered briefly if the Elite had practiced the casual pose, another minute might have spoilt the tableau.

“Exquisite. Is it to your liking, Katze?”

“Yes, very much, thank you, Sir Am. To what do I owe this generosity? Couldn’t have been that easy having this little number whipped up, in,” Katze paused, calculating. “Four and a half hours?”

Raoul rose, a smile playing about his lips as he approached the mongrel, drinking in the elegant, lithe being abstractedly.

“Only the right sleeve’s lining had to be altered with the minor finishing touch. Your Kato is quite adept at this sewing thing and enjoyed the challenge, as for the rest, it was commissioned a week ago.”

“Kato?”

“Yes, full of surprises that one. I can see why you have not dispensed with him, though his need to prattle can be tiring? You really should see about his eyes. It is a recurring theme in his never ending complaints.”

Katze saw the truth of his surmise in the Elite’s expression as he raised the crystal goblet to his nose and sniffed the amber liquid with obvious enjoyment while awaiting a response.

“I’m aware, thank you, Sir Am.”

“Aaahhh, I see I am treading too close to home, my apologies, Katze. I borrowed your man servant’s service for an hour in total.”

“No, not necessary, thank you for your concern, but to put your mind at ease, he has to wait his turn. There are others worse off in Ceres. He knows this. Complaining is his forte, Sir Am. I’ve learn to pay attention only when he doesn’t.”

A pale brow quirked as the Elite leaned in conspiratorially as naked finger tips slid suggestively across the sensitive skin of his wrist, leaving echoes of warmth in their wake before taking his hand fully and leading him to the couch.

The dealer involuntarily trembled as hot fingers caressed the sleeve of the gown and stealthily crept beneath the folds to touch the warm skin of his wrist once again, as if testing the first response for veracity and logging it to memory.

Katze slowly moved his hand out of reach now that he was seated. He took great pains to study the assortment of delicacies before him on the low table, mentally trying to avoid the intimacy of silence they shared and the pulse of his unruly cock that had taken a decided interest in the feel of those fingers still caressing the outline of his wrist in slow circles.

Blushing with unaccountable embarrassment at so simple a touch, Katze spoke. “Any of this safe to eat considering?”

Raoul chuckled as he rose and headed for the bar, content with his experimental results. “He would not dare risk my health and anyway, I had him sample everything before you arrived. It might interest you that Kato had a hand in the menu. So yes Katze, it is safe.”

“Kato did this, when?”

The Elite nodded and examined the various bottles in front of him meditatively, avoiding the question. “What’s your poison?”

An undignified snort came from the mongrel’s mouth.

Confused gold brows worked as he eyed his mongrel. “Have I made use of the wrong colloquialism? It is hard to keep up with these peculiar turns of phrase you all employ as a means of keeping others out.”

Raoul did have a point.

“Well?”

“Merlot if you have it, please?”

Katze leaned forward, remembering his hunger, taking genuine interest in the mouth-watering appetizers. Reaching for something green and fragrant, ever watchful of the Elite’s graceful movements behind the bar, Katze noted one anomalous item added to the starters.

A malicious half-smile came to the mongrel’s lips. Deek would have been beside himself with rage at its inclusion to be sure. It looked rather innocent at the moment, a single filter tipped cigarette, already poised for consumption in the ashtray.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

The dealer pointed with a self deprecating smile as he munched contentedly another item from the delectable assortment. “You thought of everything, Sir Am.”

“I choose my battles, Katze.” Raoul retorted padding quietly back to join his guest with glasses in hand. “It is your chosen vice for the time being. This I accept.”

“By the way, you got it right about the drink thing. Just an incredibly bad pun under the circumstances, Deek hates me.”

“There is no love lost on your side either, Katze, occupational hazards one assumes.”

Dark amber eyes genuinely smiled at the knowing sideways glance he was being given. “Yeah, you go with that, Sir Am. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’m bedding his pride and joy.”

Raoul studied his snifter pointedly. “Rest assured the incident will never be repeated and let us be clear, I am ‘bedding’ you, not the other way around.”

The dealer rolled his eyes. ‘Control issues.’ ‘Uh-huh...’

Time to change the subject to something less contentious and ego driven, Katze thought, he really did like the peculiar green thing on the cracker, definitely some kind of creamy vegan concoction subtly spiced with citrus and some manner of saline.

The redhead studied the Blondie with a shy smile as he reached for the last of the three. “You knew which I would choose; How exactly, Sir Am?”

Raoul lifted his head and regarded the mongrel intently for a moment while refilling his snifter before re-corking the decanter.

“Because I know the man in question intimately; I’ve made a precise study of his likes and dislikes. Take for example the avocado you are devouring with no thought as to sharing.”

Katze’s throat went dry taking in the sultry yet amused expression in those eerily sparkling eyes that pinned him, even at half mast beneath that unruly lock of gold.

Raoul had misunderstood. He felt heat rising in his face again. “Sorry. I meant the robe, actually, Sir Am.”

The eyes in that perfectly sculpted face added to the unspoken want as they drank him in as a gentle smile formed on well formed lips.

“I know what you meant, Katze.”

Predatory, really it was the only word that best described the set of Raoul’s countenance while he studied the mongrel’s lips upon his approach.

“He is a slave to his senses when aroused, particularly those of touch, sight and taste.”

Katze averted his gaze as hot finger tips reached for and caressed his own briefly before the long stemmed glass was placed in his nerveless grasp.

“He is sensual, has dominance issues but is a sensory delight for those fortunate to see beyond his brittle edges.”

The redhead inhaled the warm, fruity musk of the liquid to buy time almost choking. ‘Evil tease licking the rim of the goblet like that.’

It was getting hard to breathe with Raoul’s nearness and the rich timbre of his voice lulling his senses. Every word was a caress, a slow seduction firing his senses. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, watching the graceful figure seat himself and lean back onto the plush pillows.

He wanted Raoul and the damn man knew it.

Straight to my fucking cock! Two can play at this game, well, if it was a game. They loved this kind of game where you titillated the senses unmercifully with voyeuristic glee. Think, Katze. Stop watching him and wanting to be the freakin’ brandy going down his throat.’

“The efforts required to arouse him are always well worth it, though he hides his anima beneath a severe guise that few penetrate and speaking of penetrating, he is rather adept.”

Katze crimsoned prettily about the face and neck and swigged his wine in one inelegant gulp almost choking before handing the empty glass to Raoul.

“More!”

He needed to stop the oration. Too detailed, too precise and simply too true, the Elite had pegged him.

“He is also privately indulgent where no one else can see.”

Katze needed to change Raoul’s focus. “Takes one to know one, Sir Am, nicely played, almost wore the other one instead.”

The Elite smiled openly then and sat back content to swirl the contents of his snifter for the time being, merely placing the empty stemmed glass on the table, his lips set in a pensive moue.

“Excellent counter in an attempt to divert the lines of discourse, but no, Katze, it actually represents your past. Comforting, simple and unadorned, but not the man you are now in private.

An uncomfortable silence fell between both verbal combatants as Katze weighed the pros of cons of a sharp retort.

“You dislike being put under a microscope. That is usually your purview, isn’t it?”

Katze weighed the comment as he beckoned the Elite with one elegant finger and stole the snifter.

He blushes when confused; how quaint.

Lust darkened sea green eyes followed the graceful motion of the mongrel’s finger tip and continued to muse about the entity seated next to him as the dealer sipped and evened his breathing to the best of his abilities.

Those eyes were the same colour of the brandy now. They often bespoke rage barely tethered and yet in this moment they were as liquid warmth with the promise of passion as yet unexpressed, hidden by curiosity and a need for control. Why had Iason never noticed this or the intellect that resided in that handsome head?

Raoul internally thanked his maker now that his leader hadn’t. It would have complicated matters even more so.

“Sir Am?”

Always weighing the pros and cons of every exchange for fear of loss, or censure, but that was to be expected by his birthright, Raoul thought leaning towards the warm lips being licked nervously.

The shattering of glass as it encountered the low wooden table did not interest the Elite at the moment, or the warm viscous liquid flowing over his naked hand. He reached for his prize and pressed broad shoulders down into the giving plush material of the couch. The warm tang of his mouth, the scent of him was overpowering, well beyond that of fragrance.

Raoul closed his eyes basking in the upturned mouth that opened and welcomed his tongue’s intrusive probing with soft murmurs of encouragement. Not enough, not nearly enough to sate the burn between his legs.

Voracious he ate at the mouth surrendering to the combat of limbs intertwined, seeking, caressing, grasping in earnest as each other’s warm breath fanned their faces in an attempt to do the impossible and merge as one.

Breathing, unfortunate but an essential of life, Raoul thought finally pulling away with a harsh rasp, allowing the life giving air to both their heaving chests.

Katze was surprisingly the first to recover.

“Mmmmmm...much better, Katze murmured against the Elite’s panting mouth. “Theory’s nice, but practice is better.”

The dealer moaned adjusting his limbs to better conform to the body atop his, aligning his erection with that of the turgid length slowly grinding him deeper into the couch with each stuttering thrust of pelvis, amazed and equally mesmerized by the far off look in sea green eyes intently gazing at his mouth.

Raoul seriously wanted to fuck him badly at the moment. Not that he was exactly complaining or anything, but he didn’t need Deek coming in and destroying the moment with a declaration about dinner or some equally tiresome crap.

Those long fingered hands were sinful as they caressed his cheek and snaked their way between and down the opening of his robe coming to rest suggestively at the base of his cock with the lightest touch of finger tips.

“Think we’ll make it through the meal or you wanna maybe repair to the bedroom and have a quickie instead of boring pre-dinner conversation?”

Raoul’s groaned in ecstasy, still trying to find a suitable retort as Katze’s fingers and palm worked their familiar magic against burning, throbbing flesh. Those lips and teeth travelled the length of his neck licking and nipping their way through his sanity and resolve, were not helping.

“Appetizers?” came the pubertal retort between soft moans. Somehow, it seemed the right thing to say, even if now it seemed somewhat nonsensical.

Katze grinned up at the Elite, thoroughly unimpressed by the attempt at bribe, as dexterous fingers happily grasped his own and made a twin of their bodily surges towards fulfillment.

“What else do you have on offer to wet my appetite, Sir Am?” the dealer murmured against Raoul’s neck, punctuating his thought with a slow sensual grind of his own hardened length, both mutually slick with expectation at the growing promise of fulfillment.

Raoul felt the smile against his throat. His damn mongrel was doing this intentionally as payback for his own coy teasing earlier.

He was a hairs breadth from surrendering to the call of his body and that of the male whose lips had tongue had developed a strong fascination , nay fixation, on his left nipple while that other lethal hand made quick work of loosening his robe fully, exposing his need to hooded downcast eyes.

“Even better now that I have your undivided attention, Sir Am.”

‘Control issues. Katze had them in droves and always would.’ Raoul mused, slowly regaining his resolve. This would always be the challenge of two Alpha males determined to lead, even in coitus as their bodies quickened with the lust of acquisition.

Slowly levering himself upright with the mongrel still stubbornly attached, Raoul pulled at the soft red hairs at the base of Katze’s scalp insistently almost painfully willing him to stop. So wet and soft a tongue was still extended, refusing to be denied its newest toy.

The Blondie groaned torturously at the too right sensations powering his mind’s focus downward to the hand that had grown somewhat more insistent between their thighs, generously spreading their pre-cum to further slick both in readiness.

This had to stop now or his mongrel would regret his actions. He had brought him here for more than this, tonight. He roughly tugged Katze’s wrist.

Message received by the look in confused dark amber eyes that slowly grew distant and defensively hooded in thought.

Raoul adjusted his robe primly, finally allowed to extricate himself from the warm, flexible limbs that had previously surrounded him like a custom made glove.

Lowering his own gaze to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with the panting figure that lay prone on his couch with un-sated sex exposed, Raoul stood on shaking limbs, prepared to retreat to the relative safety of the wet bar.

What they both needed right now was space, space to think for the coming conversation. Until it was had, all of this, however intoxicatingly pleasurable, would be moot. He knew Katze well enough to realize this.

How chaste and unexpected, Katze thought, moderately irritated and yet amused at the comical speed of retreat and the Elite’s off kilter gait when heading for the bar. His soft amber gaze narrowed speculatively.

The Blondie’s sudden feigned and rather intent interest in the contents of the decanter in front of him, said it all. Raoul was up to something more than casual seduction and the redhead intended to get to the bottom of it, cause this on-again-off-again shit was doing his head in.

“That’s twice now, Raoul. You’re going to give me a complex at this rate with the on again, off again, signals. If this isn’t what you wanted, why did you really stop me leaving?”

Without turning, Raoul spoke. “You really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, Katze. It tends to make you demanding sexually and less than logical when it comes to implicit conversational cues.”

Katze sat up and adjusted his robe mildly perturbed by the statement. Maybe he had read Raoul’s seduction theme all wrong after all. The dealer reached for the cigarette instinctively, his features becoming pinched with pent anger as he lit it and inhaled deeply and to top it off his fucking cock was killing him at the moment. He needed to release. Everything was a fucking game with these fuckers.

“Let me get this straight, Sir Am. You” Katze pointed accusingly, “did all this including swanning about half naked with a perpetual hard on digging into my pelvis, and I’m the one unable to read cues?”

Raoul’s shoulders became rigid with guilt. The mongrel had a point. Only his sense of discipline had prevented their inevitable joining.

“Excuse the fuck out of me for thinking you wanted to screw my brains out as per usual.”

“That is quite enough! Remember where you are, Katze. This is not your brothel and I am not one of your patrons to be spoken to so disrespectfully!” Raoul barked. “I am equally in immediate physical discomfort but it will pass, stop pouting. This is in no way easy for me either.”

The redhead rose and squared his shoulders unsteadily. He’d had just about enough of this shit and intended to get the hell out back to the place where he belonged and knew the rules because he made them.

“Sit down, Katze! I am not done with you.”

Katze inhaled deeply of the sweet smoke before stubbing it out, eyes still holding fast to that of equally furious green orbs before snorted derisively at the glowering Elite, who looked almost petulant and confused. Some things simply never would change.

“Too bad, Sir Am, cause I’m done with you. Do your worst! Thanks for another fucked up evening of me wanting you and you rejecting me because of some screwed up shit in your own head. I won’t even bother asking what I did wrong this time. We’re done. Well and truly done this time.”

Katze’s shoulder was slammed painfully back down into the couch.

“No we are not. Sit, damn you!”

Ignoring the eerily quiet growl, Katze glared fearlessly back up into livid green eyes, though his innards quaked at the unfamiliar expression of pleading within verdant eyes.

“So now you are going to hit me and put me back in my place, right Sir Am?”

Raoul blanched at the casualness of the rebuke in words and the cold, basilisk like expression in formerly limped pools that welcomed his previous touch. He recoiled visibly, turning his back to the mongrel with a level of regret. It had been his first thought.

“No! Give me some semblance of credit.”

The dealer suddenly remembered the journal still in the Blondie’s possession, somewhat surprised by the easy victory but cautious of its outcome. He breathed deeply. Deja vu, like the first deal struck when they initially met. Like now, Raoul had held all the cards.

Katze studied the broad back that trembled uncontrollably, fascinated by the sight of a usually taciturn Elite striving desperately for control.

“Credit for what, Raoul, managing not to make a mess of my face this time cause you are pissed that I just didn’t bow down to your usual demands like a good little Pet?”
Through gritted perfect teeth Raoul turned, causing Katze to lean back heavily into the couch, actually for the first time afraid for his life at the feral gleam he saw in pale irises. “Do not take that tone with me, Katze. Not now please.”

They never showed this side and once again, it became clear why they were not allowed to partake of companionship in an appreciable way. Base emotiveness uncontrolled and untried could so easily be their undoing; a bio-mechanical entity in the midst of flux.

“ I...I...require a moment to gather my thoughts, Katze. Please remain still. You being a moving target is distracting instinctually, please just sit for both our sakes while I process.”

This was exactly what he always knew. Both he and Raoul, or any mongrel and Elite were a mistake. A mere happenstance of lust incapable of finding common ground, either by race, creed or caste; a mistake, a sick joke that Jupiter would undoubtedly enjoy in the coming days and used as a lesson plan for any other that would dare to cross the lines in future.

Katze needed closure, despite the plummeting of his stomach as he looked at the shattered snifter and gathered the pieces before him, placing them on the upturned serving tray for something to do. What he was about to say would seal their fate. It saddened him, but it had to be done for sanity’s sake.

“Despite my better judgement, Raoul, I love you and I know I will always want you, that is why I offer this.”

No response as the Elite stood stock still.

“I ask that what I shared with you remain between us and that you keep my secret and return the journal whatever the price you deem appropriate, Sir Am.”

He watched as the broad back stiffened a fraction.

“What I desire has no price, Katze. I thought that self evident in my gift.”

“You say that now, Sir Am, I know the ways of the world, don’t forget. Amoi is complex. Just know no matter what happens in the coming days my body remains yours and I’ll serve without question until you tire of me at which point I’m sure we can come to some other form of agreement in kind as payment for your continued silence.”

He stood and willed himself not to falter as he headed for the bedroom door. Katze reached it in the palpable silence and grasped the handle of the door. He smiled sadly at it, another anomalous find of antiquity. They had all the wrong things in common. Perhaps under another set of moons they could have been friends, companions but not in their world.

Something made him turn to face the presence he felt behind him. He did not look into those haunted eyes. He couldn’t.

“Good night, Sir Am.”

Katze reached for the knob again and turned it moving away from the Elite, who was far too close for comfort, having followed him silently to the door.

He heard the familiar inhalation and stilled anticipating the words spoken in derision. It was better this way. End as they meant to continue.

“How disappointing, a base mongrel, through and through. You are well suited to your profession after all as whore monger.”

The dealer flinched, grasping the bedroom doors knob with a white knuckled grip.

He’d walked right into that, but damn it, he wouldn’t hold his tongue.

“Funny considering your dick never found fault with this base mongrel’s ass or his mouth or his own cock deeply seated in your sanctimonious ....”

“Stop it!”

Katze winced at the volume.

“Emulating the behaviour of your whores with an attempt at ribald humour is distasteful under the circumstances, Katze of Ceres. You do your ancestry no favours proposing so profligate a compromise with your body who some find sacred.”

“How the hell would you know anything about it, Sir Am? When have you ever in your existence been told, exactly what and where you are valued? In my world, it is the tangible that counts. We mongrel’s leave the abstract and the esoteric to you, that is your purview and luxury in being the Chosen.”

Katze closed his eyes tightly, willing his breathing to even.

“It’s all I have to offer you of value, Sir Am in my reality. I promise you no one will ever know outside the select few who serve me. It’s a good deal, Raoul Am. It takes the edge off for both of us. I won’t lie. I want you something fierce, even though I want to kill you right now because of what I am feeling. I don’t appreciate being out of control. Give me credit for being the first to recognize this...is the best we’ll ever have and leave it there.”

“How daaare you attempt to reduce me to your pathetically simple sense of right and wrong?! I am not like your mongrel beast, Donovan, who covets your body by the way. So much for being observant, Katze of Ceres,” Raoul snarled, finally at his wits end as he swivelled the lithe form around and whose head remained bowed, refusing to hold his eyes.

“Look at me damn you, Katze!”

“Let go of me and leave Donovan out of this! Don’t go there. He has always had my back and I his.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? Have you heard nothing I’ve said this night? Why do you refuse to acknowledge the reverence I shown you as if you were a brethren?”

Katze gritted his teeth and glared up at the Elite with murderous eyes as he continued to struggle futilely against the Elite’s superior strength. “I said, let me the fuck go, Raoul!”

“No! My patience is at an end with your delusional tantrums, Katze.”

Funny but Raoul sounded almost desperate as he clutched both shoulders firmly and pressed them to the door, then thought better of it as the resilient muscles below his palms rebelled and trembled.

He let go, choosing instead to roll large elegant hands at his side into a tight ball of fury.

“Just sit, if you will.”

Furtively the dealer looked up beneath thick lashes. This was the second time the Blondie had reined himself in without being asked. The Elite’s usually pale and perfect face was high in colour as he pointed to the couch, brooking no argument before slowly lowering the gesticulating hand to the mongrel’s hand.

“Please, Katze, please.”

Raoul’s fearsome grip was firm against Katze’s palm but in no way painful as the mongrel was swung towards the couch and landed with an undignified plop as the Blondie hovered over him.

The mongrel’s lips thinned in anger, but he kept his own counsel and waited with elegant limbs folded.

“Well, get on with it? Time’s money, Blondie.”

Leaning forward with menace, Raoul hissed. “Shut it! You will sit there and listen.”

Katze cut his eye, but kept his own counsel finding the view outside the library window, exceptionally compelling. It was better than admitting defeat. Raoul had never spoken to him like this before. He felt chastised.

“No more of this running like a beaten cur with your tail between your comely legs.”

Now that was different, censure in the form of a compliment, the moons arcing gracefully across the night sky without.

“I need a smoke.” Katze retorted flatly crossing said legs, the soft fall of the already open pack being thrown and landing on his lap.

This compromise was a good start.

“Thanks,” Katze murmured noncommittally and lit his cigarette, glancing sideways at the Elite.

~~~BMR~~~

Ruby eyes surveyed their surroundings, a delicate nose wriggled with disgust at the pervading stench that rose up from the wet gutter as Donovan opened his passenger side door.

Admon did not wish to hazard a guess as to true contents of the offensive melange other than rank sweat, spoilt food and rotting organic matter strewn about the side street Bison called home.

These were the actual slums of Ceres at their very worst; the colour of poverty was gray.

“This way,” Donovan pointed begrudgingly in the direction of a dilapidated building, still keeping his distance as he stepped back and away from the Karinese and moved forward, jostling the few who walked the night street out of his way.

“Speed it up, Admon. We ain’t got all night.”

Pale blue eyes fixed on the sandals Admon had chosen to wear on this occasion. Come to think of it, he’d never seen those damn perfect feet covered before. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as he thought, probably afraid of dirt.

Crimson eyes danced meeting the circumspect gaze with genuine humour. “One adapts, Donovan. It is the key to survival.”

“So you comin’ or what?” the bodyguard huffed. “Don’t need a lecture on survival from you pretty boy....thing...”

Admon sighed and adjusted his cowl, taking one more cursory look at his surrounding with sadness. Jupiter had failed ignobly in its task. This was not how it should have been.

In theory, they were to have peacefully co-existed not thrown into abject slavery for those of Midas’ citizenry who spun their webs of accomplishment on the children’s backs, while sycophantically serving false masters.

He looked up to the beneficent indifferent twins momentarily caught by the dark cast of cloud cover indicating imminent rain. A black rain soon would come, acrid in its content, beating the beaten further.

Clarity at last, all those eyes, all those undisciplined emotions desperate and in pain, pain they no longer recognized, pain that had turned to abject hunger and a will to survive just another day. He had felt that once, in his isolated three year span. He finally understood the Ruby’s purpose in doing so; knowledge, perhaps even empathy as an unintended by product of his study.

Hatred and awe if he had to give the emotive pulses names and all coming from the minder whose hand stayed close to his hip and the gun secreted there. Admon smiled, the fools they passed thought it was for his protection, he knew better.

‘Safeguard yourself always, Admon when in their midst. Fear rules them and that is what makes them dangerous when gathered.’

His former Master the Ruby had been right. He rarely was wrong in his conjectures save one. The hatred within Admon’s heart was fading as forgiveness began to take its place. Ajna’s immediacy and counsel had helped this night. Only the weak were vested in the destruction of another. Only the weak were incapable of forgiveness; self forgiveness the only one that actually mattered.

Donovan stopped in front of the building.

Trepidation? Fear, hmmm some facsimile of both, whose quality remained strained and all pointed to Guy of Bison.

“Here.” Donovan rasped, pale eyes gliding over the Karinese’s form suspiciously. “This is Bison territory, you’re safe. No one will dare approach you.”

Ignoring the tall well built mongrel, Admon moved forward toward the first gray step, just as thunder crackled, electrifying the putrid air. He felt the paw-like hand touch his sleeve somewhat apologetically.

“Wait. I just need to kinda” Donovan scratched the back of his head with embarrassment evident in the flush of his well formed face, “explain things to Guy first, so he won’t misunderstand and maybe get in the way of whatever it is you’re gonna do for Sid.”

Admon inclined his head with a knowing smile. “Of course, Donovan, have your moment. I am in no way interested in the details of your failed tryst this night. Far be it for me to enter the home of the Irrational One unannounced, causing further delay and incident.”

Donovan’s lower jaw worked as he turned and stared down the Karinese. “Stop taunting Guy, understood?!”

“You would do well to follow your own instructions.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re...”

Unable to help himself, Donovan swung at the smug, perfect face staring back at him with clear amusement.

At lightning speed a gray gloved hand appeared out of Admon’s left sleeve and muffled the impact meant for his face, aglow in the sudden lightning flash that set fire to already menacingly crimson eyes turned skyward. The minder grimaced in pain at the pulsing warmth that had turned his arm muscles and that of his fist to gelatinous fire.

“Stop wasting my time, Mongrel.”

Donovan gritted his teeth in agony as the iron doors flew open and Guy appeared with laz-rifle cocked, a red bead of light centred between Admon’s eyes.

“Why’s the cocksucker pissed at you, Donny Boy?” Guy queried with a maniacal smile affixed to his worn handsome face, gray eyes taking in Donovan’s unusual pallor.

“Get back inside, Guy.”

Admon sniffed the air, ignoring the tall, lean figure casually crouched against the door. Guy’s aura had shifted towards enraged confusion mixed with hurt at the words spoken; promising, he could, if inspired, be controlled.

“You don’t give the orders here, Donny Boy. I do. Yo Princess, I’m talkin’ to you, he bitch! You have five seconds to let him the fuck go or I’ll use that pretty face of yours for target practice and I never miss!”

Releasing a long suffering sigh, the Karinese shifting his gaze to the top of the stairs before languidly lowering his sight to meet that of frightened blue eyes, silently pleading with him; interesting, Donovan was in actuality not pleading for a release despite the indescribable pain he was being put through. No, in actuality he was begging for Guy’s mercy; how fortuitous a discovery for them both.

He let go of the mongrel’s fist and sighed. “The rain is coming, Donovan. I can smell it even amidst the stench of this street and its occupants. Pacify him before he becomes a menace to himself and all others about.”

Guy charged down the stairs towards Admon, recognizing the insult for what it was, just as Donovan side stepped him and forced him bodily back up the stairs in a two step.

“Calm the fuck down. I need to talk to you. He’s here about Sid, moron! Don’t fuck this up.”

Gray eyes blinked in consternation. “You really are as stupid as you look, right about now. I call you and this is what you bring!? What about the drugs?!”

Admon watched the iron grip of discipline warfare return to Donovan’s stance as he faced down his mate and kept him in check.

Such idiotic fools, Admon thought oblivious to the fact that they had fleetingly gotten it right through selflessness.

Ominous clouds began to fill the skies anew, they were losing time.

Unfurling long sleeves the Karinese marched up the stairs with purpose past the duo looking on in shock at the shift from timidity to forceful presence in his stride. Admon gauged the darkened hallway before him, closing his eyes. He allowed his senses to lead him to the entity within slowly losing his mind.

“I believe your sibling is two flights up. Please remove your traps on the second floor, Guy or I will. It won’t be liveable if I do.”

Guy glared at the commanding tone, for the first time in the pit of his stomach, fear raised its head. Admon had been playing them both with his fawning ways all along. Nothing in that booming voice was meek. It wasn’t just the hallways echo. In fact, the fucker was downright condescending in his veiled threat.

“I am here for my Master’s peace of mind and to serve him, Guy. Your line means nothing to the eventual outcome we work towards. Do not try my patience.”

“We?” Guy cracked his neck and narrowed his eyes, ill at ease at how easily the Karinese had taken command of the situation, “Who the fuck is we, Princess, your sister? Cause she I could do.”

Admon turned and silently gazed at the male staring up at him in challenge as the door clanked shut behind Donovan. A slow malicious smile graced the android’s face as he looked beyond Guy to Donovan and then back again, dark crimson eyes aglow.

“You will find out soon enough, Irrational One. Take your pleasures while you can, Guy. I have no need of Donovan for the interim. Use this time to placate one another’s false hopes.”

Warm paw-like hands held Guy in check once more as Admon continued to gracefully take the stairs. “Easy. He’s just sayin’ shit to piss you off, Guy. Think this once for fuck’s sake!”

“Placate him with your body, if need be, Donovan. I imagine this can be achieved in under two minutes, with time to spare.”

“Thaaat’s it! ” Guy took off at a run.

“Guy! Control yourself!” Donovan said, following, amazed at how speedy Bison’s leader was when he was hell bent on revenge.

“Gonna beat the shit out of that fucker once and for all!!”

“This is getting us nowhere, stop being so fuckin’ selfish!”

Bison’s leader screeched to halt and turned on the minder in blind fury. “Did you, or did you not hear what he just said about you?!”

“Yes, Guy, I did and it doesn’t matter, you of all people know better.”

“Damn straight! I’m gonna make that cum sucking bitch take it back. Fuck Sid’s psycho shit! I’ve had about enough of that droid’s lip to last a lifetime!” Guy continued to march up the stairs in hot pursuit, the rifle butt held like a baseball bat.

Donovan cringed and passed thick fingers over his temples in defeat as he bemoaning his fate.
One blow job, okay an exceptional one, had caused him this grief. The minder realized he had been looking into questioning gray eyes all along.

“Move your ass, Donny Boy.” Guy barked, slapping the gun in his callused palm, testing its weight, giving it a good swing to check for accuracy.

Kind of weird what you sometimes noticed in a moment, like the nice flow of strong muscles as they rippled beneath the thin white long sleeved t-shirt.

Guy really looked good all hot and bothered.

So much for talking, so much for undressing that fine leather clad ass and putting that mouth of his to good use.

Donovan blinked as he topped the stairs it suddenly occurred to him that Guy’s hair was loose and not in its usual pony. It had brushed to radiant sheen and if the scent of his wake was anything to go by he had bathed before drowning himself in that cheap cologne.

~~~BMR~~~

“Why this one in particular, how is it relevant to the journal?”

Consciously controlling his breathing, the Elite refused to look at Katze as he poured generously from the decanter.

“Because it is my printed version of The Book of Origin as handed down by Jupiter to its learned. Look up Ceres.”

Katze carefully flipped the pages, his index finger travelling to the word Ceres, as good a place to begin the discussion, since Raoul would insist on being honourable and boring allowing him to wander the study’s library shelves before dinner now that his fit of pique was over.

He had been offering the damn Elite a blow job, not eternity. If he wanted to walk around half the night like he’d sustained a debilitating injury, far be it for him to stop the idiot.

“It says here it was once thought to be the eighth planet in the solar system of origin between Mars and Jupiter and was named after a Roman Goddess of grain and fertility.”

Raoul stilled noting the mongrel’s peculiar silence as he leaned against the shelves and hurriedly flipped the pages to a series of images with a grin.

“What’s with the snakes wound around her arms, I thought she was a fertility Goddess?” Katze lips pursed as a thought occurred to him and he looked up from the page at the Elite who had sauntered to his side, brandy in hand.

“Call me crazy but it kind of looks like a helix, but that doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t have known about that then. For all intents and purposes they were primitives. Look.”

Now or never, the Blondie thought to share his bit of news and the reason he had even bothered to deter that delicious mouth from its previous goal.

“I don’t need to, Katze. It is why I drew your attention to the volume in the first place.”

The mongrel looked up, amber eyes bright with curiosity. “Any time now, Raoul, dying with suspense here,” the redhead nudged the suddenly taciturn Elite with his shoulder companionably as he flipped the pages genuinely pleased to hold such a valuable volume filled with information, all be it fanciful rubbish akin to his sect’s legend.

“Ceres is your maternal sir name, Katze.”

Raoul caught the thick volume in time as it slipped from his mongrel’s tenuous grasp.

“The irony has already struck me, too Katze. Instinctively, I had recently taken to calling you by the fanciful honorific befitting your line’s station, even before I pieced it together. It was as if I knew, perhaps from the first moment I saw you.”

A warm palm enveloped his jaw and stroked across the scarred cheek gently. “You are atypical amongst your kind, Katze. I have always known this.”

Leaning into the welcomed touch, Katze sighed still speechless as he stared into verdant green intently gazing at him, gauging his response.

“The mythologies here are fanciful to be sure, but they served Jupiter’s purpose. The young Elite mind in its formative development is a fragile thing. These stories give a sense of belonging, rather like what I believe were once called fairytales, when mankind was young and wholly illiterate requiring a rational for what they then called magic.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Jupiter found through trial and error these myths and tales exponentially increased our capacity to learn by fostering imagination, a fallback to our organic origins. Logic alone could not suffice in our development. In fact, the first of our kind reached rudimentary sentience but no further.”

Katze nodded impishly. “Being tainted with our blood’ll do that, Sir Am. We like tall tales.”

Rather beautiful teeth gleamed in the low light. “You grow by imagining. The question What If, lies at the core of your species sentience. Through it, you build on dreams and make them real. Imagination is your fuel. It is what took you to the stars in the first place, along with greed, of course.” Raoul winked, moderately amused by narrowed citrine eyes.

“Time’s money, hasn’t exactly hurt your kind either over the centuries, Sir Hypocrite.”

“True.”

The redhead felt the sudden tension in Raoul’s grip as he eased his arms around lean flanks and soothingly caressed, hoping to stave the building disquiet he saw in the Elite’s face, still caught by the thought that he finally had a name all his own.

“Do you remember the last time you were here, Katze?”

“How could I forget? I told you, etched in memory that.”

“You have a one track mind at times, Katze. I meant the book you found by my bedroom’s fireplace. Try to stay with me. I do have a point.”

“Yeah and taking forever to get to it, spoilsport...fine. Go on. I’ll shut it, Master Am.”

“Where is all this delightful deference when actually needed, I wonder?”

The redhead’s gaze grew distant and pensive as he tried to recall, the wry smirk still on his lips.

“Mmmm, you know, I think it was a medical journal of some kind, why?”

“The content, Katze, do you remember what page it was on?”

The dealer’s gaze dimmed once again. “Anatomical depictions I think, maybe proto-types for your kind in development? Sorry didn’t pay much attention. It was Donovan that proved more interested in the content and made mention of it later.”

Raoul shook his head slowly. “No Katze. They were the prototypes that never got built, or so we thought until recently. One hundred percent organic, in fact, and not built by Dr Katzen Wolf, they came later and must have been after the accident described in your journal. All is beginning to make sense now. There is fact within your legend and ours, but not how either of us have previously perceived them to be. Only Jupiter truly knows what became of the three and perhaps one other.”

“Sir Niiro.” Katze murmured.

“Exactly.”

Both jumped at the loud rap on the library door as the Sir Niiro swirled in unannounced closely followed by the gimlet eyed Furniture Deek.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? Celebrating are we? What’s the occasion?” Sir Niiro said brightly, glaring daggers at the mongrel as he divested himself of voluminous cloak and gloves before handed them to the servant.

“Deek, be an absolute dear and make me that lovely concoction you invented all those years ago.”

Coughing apologetically, the manservant bowed low in feigned apology. “Sir Niiro insisted it was an emergency, Sir Am. I thought it best to bring him through.”

Katze snorted. “Of course you did. Try not to put arsenic in his drink, will you, Deek...dear?”

Sir Niiro beamed at all concerned, elegantly flopping on the couch while taking fastidious interest in the delicious assortment before delicately picking at a morsel. “Such a clever, Mongrel, no wonder you find him so entertaining, Raoul. Will he be giving us a show tonight? Or is that reserved for your eyes only, you naughty thing.”

The arm about Katze’s waist stilled as broad shoulders tensed.

“Niiro, why are you here?”

Casually examining the end of his braid, the Ruby sighed. “Why is that always the question everyone asks? One could easily begin to feel unwanted, such a bother. Deek dear, do see about the preparation. I am parched.”

“Stay exactly where you are Deek, if you value your tenure in this household.”

Stalemate, Katze wanted a graceful retreat but the arm about his waist became iron.

“Fine, then I shall make it myself. Would anyone care to join me? Your little mongrel looks in need of a good stiff one and by the looks of things he was well on his way to getting one too.” Niiro chuckled, deeply amused by his own pun.

Was it Katze’s imagination or was Raoul grinding his teeth?

Author's Note

Worked long and hard on this one. Let me know. Have a good one.

EP