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 – 35 of 37

Reviews are fuel.


"Forgiveness is the scent that the violet leaves on the heel that crushes it."
~~~
Anon
This chapter is dedicated to the lovely NoChick for her inspired query about my version of the beloved Katze. Because of her I now have a stunning portrait of him for posterity done by Tata, a name that is familiar to anyone in the AnK fandom.
But I digress. Long after this tale has ended and that of its little follow up dedicated to Iason and Riki titled the Ties that Bind (Iason/Riki piece), are done, I will have this masterful portrait. No Chick inspired it and I will always, always be thankful for her grace and her kind gift of encouragement and for being the muse that fostered it.

Chapter 35 of ? – Forgiveness (Post OVA)


Robe tied strategically about his waist, Katze winced when applying the cold compress on his shoulder. Adjusting the mirror he examined his other bruises through a haze of smoke, his eyes narrowing upon seeing the Elite’s reflection intently watching him.

“Remind me never to have you as backup in a fight, Sir Am.”

“I see we have reverted to calling me, Sir Am.” Raoul snorted at the back handed insult. His eyes passed over the deceptively willowy frame. Nothing broken, a few minor contusions but nothing rest would not cure, considering the mongrel’s preternatural ability to heal.

“Jupiter forbids you should break a sweat or extend yourself while Sir Jerk-Off tried to strangle me,” Katze mumbled around the lit cigarette, one eye pinched shut avoiding the smoke.

It was an art form keeping the cigarette just so and continuing to speak unimpeded. Never once did the rapidly diminishing filter give off ash, except when the mongrel bit the tip between perfectly even white teeth and twiddled his lips; fascinating.

Raoul grew pensive watching the careful ministrations, never once offering aid, he knew would be rebuffed on principle. Still angry and confused, Raoul thought propping himself against the bathroom door watching the protracted examination Katze gave to his own long elegant neck.

Katze was making an excessive production of this, just to avoid speaking to him directly. He was afraid.

Long dexterous fingers flexed about the soft washcloth ringing it dry before dabbing at the perfectly imperfect face.

He had always wondered at the mongrel’s remarkable ability to heal, and for that matter Riki’s. From what Sir Niiro had intimated there could well be a biological reason. Still, it was only theory, a theory well worth pursuing if he could get the original medical documentation secreted by the Ruby. It could wait until morning and with luck and politesse he would be able to finagle more details out of the Sir Niiro.

Raoul nodded to himself, lips curved into a pensive moue.

By then cooler heads would prevail. Nii Nii was above all else highly mercurial and given to rapidly shifting emotions. With luck he would meet with his alter ego and if not, well, perhaps it was time to face things. They had both matured and still held that commonality for knowledge.

“Katze, you have sustained greater injuries in your professional dealings in the Black Market. These marks are inconsequential. You know I would never have allowed him to damage you irreparably. Do stop pouting like a juvenile.”

The redhead glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the Elite in a less than favourable manner.

“You were enjoying it. I could tell.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I know the signs of arousal in you, Raoul. Pupils dilated. Breathing hard, cheeks flushed not to mention you were practically salivating at the prospect...”

“Come here, Katze!” Raoul commanded.

“No!”

Exasperated, Raoul fully entered the room, crossing long arms across his chest, pinning the mongrel with a white hot glare. “This is unbecoming and unacceptable. I command you to stop this pathetic attempt at displacement. You brought this upon yourself.”

The dealer stubbed out the cigarette and ruffled his hair irritably. “If it’s okay with you, Sir Am, I’d rather return to my namesake tonight.”

“No!”

“What the hell do you mean by, no?”

Taking a long breath and stifling the urge to retaliate for the tone, Raoul began slowly approaching the beyond irritated dealer scowling at him.

“Katze, please, instead of running away to lick your wounds in private, remain here.”

The dealer uttered a self deprecating chuckle and untied the knotted sleeves about his waist. He shrugged them back on over his arms giving a little more care to the affected shoulder as he adjusted the compress beneath the robe. Eyes at half mast, he studied the Elite in the mirror.

“Has it occurred to you yet that I just want away from you and your kind for a bit?”

Raoul staved off the urge to recoil caught off guard and somewhat stung by the revelation. The arms that had been moving outward to encompass the mongrel before him, slowly lowered to his sides self-consciously.

The wry smile playing about Katze’s lips took in the balled fists.

“It’s not personal, Raoul Am. I don’t know what to make of what I have learnt tonight. I need some down time.”

Raoul thought to press his point, that distant gaze Katze was giving him did not bode well. He was trying to retreat emotionally. He would not allow it.

“This environment is infinitely more conducive to objective thought and conversation.” Even to his ears, his rationale sounded weak.

Katze shook his head and sighed, cocking his head to one side and regarded the Elite before carefully moving toward the still, elegant figure whose intent gaze held a modicum of fear.

Gently Katze cupped Raoul’s face, the sad smile softening about its edges.

“I’m not rejecting you, Raoul. It would be like rejecting a part of me. You have been a large part of me most of my adult life.”

“Katze...I...”

He felt the pads of those fingers cover his lips, biding silence. Katze needn’t have bothered. The gentleness in his expression as he regarded Raoul without guile was unprecedented, clenching the Elite’s heart and stilling his breath.

“I’ve hated you something fierce at times, even now really because I know I will surrender to your wishes, like a God damn Pet. I never thought I could have something as perfect as you, so I sublimated with things. Rare things that I could have for myself, by myself, nothing anyone could ever take from me.”

Really, there was nothing to do but smile and so Raoul did.

“You really are astonishingly beautiful at times Raoul Am, but no. Lose the angelic look. I do my best thinking alone, always have. When it comes right down to it, I am alone in this and I have others that depend on me.”

Large well proportioned hands smoothed over skin warmed silk soothingly, pulling the mongrel firmly against his chest meeting with a modicum of resistance.

“More reason to stay. To be reminded that you have never been alone.”

“No.”

“Why? We have much to discuss, to share. I too have confessions, perhaps not the ones you intrinsically want to hear, but rather emotive and embarrassing ones pertaining to your person the first time I saw you.”

Another sigh as the redhead averted his gaze and coiled himself about the Elite, choosing to lay his head upon Raoul’s chest with a soft groan of frustration. The heartbeat was strong and reassuring as was the warmth of his Elite. He breathed him in.

“You smell good, you feel good that’s why I can’t stay. Not going to surrender to temptation.”

Not exactly the most logical of reasons, Raoul mused, caressing the taut back muscles, gratified when they slowly began to relax beneath his touch and the warm breath fanning the skin of his chest became even. “Thank you, I think?”

“In your arms it is too easy to forget we are enemies Sir Am.”

“But we are not. We are more alike than you think if reason serves and if that inkling I am having proves right.”

Katze looked up, fatigue evident in his eyes as he weighed Raoul’s querulous expression with furrowed brows.

“Right now that brain of yours is trying to work out the next move. The next counter to my argument, you just don’t understand or won’t accept facts, is more like.”

“Because your logic eludes me, Katze, you confound me and again you are not listening.”

Raoul felt the familiar tug of silken strands, watching as Katze coiled a length of gold about long fingers and studied them absently.

“Think about it. Never mind Sir Shit Box for a minute and his ridiculous experiments on the Guardian brood. We were just fodder to be exploited.”

Raoul passed the back of his hand over the fine boned cheek, lifting the not so stubborn chin to plant a chaste kiss upon soft parted lips. It was gratifying to feel the shiver that passed through Katze’s body when his head lifted to gaze into limped pools of deep cognac.

“I am, Katze.”

He was so readable, when you knew how to observe. Within the blink of an eye, his mongrel had lowered his lids, shunning the intimacy of the probing gaze that held him silent and close.

“Go on. This is where you tell me what I’ll be missing aside from a good lay if I leave.”

The Elite tightened his firm grasp of the fragile body, almost absorbing, crushing it subconsciously attempting to meld with it. With his chin atop the auburn head, Raoul began to smile. He was winning, not by force but simple persuasion.

“Well, you would be missing a fine meal for one.”

Katze murmured unintelligibly against his chest. Perhaps food was not the best incentive under the circumstances.

“Then there is the added delight of musical accompaniment now that I have come to understand the rudimentary mechanics of that monstrosity you so covet.”

The dealer raised his head, “You planning on giving that back to me any time soon? It is mine, you know? Bought and paid for.”

Passing his fingers gently through cool silken strands, Raoul affected annoyance.

“Be quiet, I am not finished.”

Katze snorted. “Well excuse the hell outta me, Sir Am. What was I thinking interrupting the great Blondie and his diatribe on the merits of epicurean delights and suspect audio recordings from a time long past.”

Gathering his thoughts Raoul continued. “Where was I? Oh yes and then stimulating conjecture over port and of course starlight and relative peace for one night before the clarion call of change takes us into the dawn.”

An auburn brow quirked in obvious disagreement, though the body in question slid sinuously closer and exhaled contentedly, the mongrel almost purring as he spoke.


“Reality check, Raoul Am, poetic license notwithstanding, you and me naked in the same bed conversing rationally? When in Jupiter’s name has that ever happened? Usually by now one of us would have laid some serious pipe up the others fine...”

“Katze...now really there is no call for so base an analogy.”

Undaunted by the attempt at censure, the dealer continued, “ass at least once and while the other was busy recovering what was left of his sanity, the other would be busy working out another variation on the theme.”

“Yes, there is some validity to the points posed. I believe you would call that chemistry, hardly a deterrent to eventual cogent thought.”

Katze’s warm breath ghosted across the skin of Raoul’s chest as the mongrel tightened his hold about his waist, lost in his own ramblings.

“Not to mention we’d scare the shit out of your Deek who’ll probably have called security cause he thinks his chaste Master’s being murdered in his bed by the debauched mongrel.”

A golden brow quirked in censure, Katze remained undeterred.

“That doesn’t leave much time for all that stimulating conjecture, now does it, when they haul me off for despoiling his Master’s virtue?”

The corners of Raoul’s lips quirked in amusement, Mongrel’s and their colourful euphemisms for coitus, aside from being crude, were exceedingly imaginative.

“How exactly is this laying of pipe a negative, Katze? I find it most relaxing and conducive to sleep.”

“My point exactly, along with the snoring.”

“My septum is perfectly aligned, speak for yourself, Mongrel.”

Katze looked up with feigned irritation at his arguments being countered effortlessly before returning his head to the broad chest in defeat. They really did fit so well together.

“You’re not helping matters, Sir Wiseass. No one said I didn’t want it. Crave it. Need it, even. I just can’t think logically with you so close, Raoul. I need control or at least the illusion of it.”

“Then have that illusion by my side and just to clarify, you are the one given to impromptu vocalizations in this pairing.”

“Thank you for that bit of irrelevant detail, Raoul Am.” Katze retorted indignantly, attempted to pull away from the embrace to glower up into highly amused green.

“You don’t get it, do you? This is all intellectual abstraction to you. My world has just exploded in my face, Raoul. Theory just became fact and now, I’ve got to fucking figure out how to deal with it and for that matter you and where we, and this thing we got going, fit in this crap shoot.”

Raoul lowered his head and tightened his hold about the sinewy form that clung to him, pressing his lips atop the cool auburn head.

“Fears when shared are nullified, Katze. Deal with them in my arms. To your point, I have self control enough for both.”

Bawdy laughter reverberated from Katze’s chest, sending a shiver through the Elite’s body.
The amber pools looking up at him sparkled with mischief. Truly he could drown in the depths of unspoken affection laced with lust he saw there.

“Speak for yourself. I have plans, Sir Am. A mongrel’s gotta mark his territory.”

“These plans you have, do they involve the laying on of pipe and general despoiling?” Raoul queried with mock seriousness in his gaze.

“See, clever as the day is long.” Katze winked, gently releasing his hold from about Raoul’s waist but not before giving a resounding pinch to the Elite’s posterior, “and here I thought you were just a pretty face, more fool me and in point of fact you do snore, Sir Am.”

Raoul blanched. No one, but no one had ever dared.

A soft apologetic cough from the bedroom door brought both around. Deek averted his gaze from the quiet intimacy he saw in front of him.

“Dinner is served, Sir Am, in the study as you requested.”

Raoul inclined his head, one hand decorously pointing the way for Katze, while the other smoothed over his abused cheek. He really should not have been aroused by that, but he was.

Deek’s dark brown eyes locked with the mongrel’s own briefly.

“Deeeeeeek...” Katze intoned warningly as he passed him.

The same could not be said for his Master who chose to ignore his presence. The Furniture was grateful he had observed nothing salacious in their deportment towards one another and yet, he felt bemused and discontented.

Sir Niiro had failed as was evidenced by the worrying sight of their companionable gait, the Master a solicitous step behind his mongrel, broad palm placed at the small of the dealer’s back ushering him forward.

Peace and affection. Not something he thought he would ever witness in this cerebral abode.


~~~BMR~~~

Admon wondered in passing at the attraction those two held for one another. He felt like an intruder seated in the rear of the vehicle as they quietly drove back to the club.

It has been most edifying watching Guy shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat, turning on occasion to glare at him for good measure; just to keep in practice. That one had excellent instincts for survival, but Admon also felt curiosity coming off the chestnut haired mongrel in waves.

Guy was intrinsically aware of his duality, unlike Donovan who simply feared the unknown.

Interesting, the Irrational One was so easily riled but not even he understood why, a part of him long forgotten perhaps, forsaken in lieu of reactivity to given stimulus. Now all his instincts were honed to simply survive, forgetting his original intellectual gifts and ability to perceive.

It was cruel to be sure but, like now, a simple smile always proved his undoing, until the creature finally twigged that he was being played by the Karinese.

Did Donovan actually realize what he had in Guy? He was a far more difficult read as a mortal. An intense sense of loyalty too, but it was learnt not instinctual like Guy’s, but then his kind had been breed for service, not so the chestnut haired mongrel whose intellect had been dulled by circumstance.

Idly Admon glanced out the smoked windows at the passing vista, returning his thoughts to his chosen Master and his paramour, Raoul Am, another set almost foiled by circumstance.

Dark ruby eyes returned their focus to that of the bodyguard, ignoring Bison’s glaring leader intently watching him in the rear view for any sudden moves.

This had not been a good day for the bodyguard, trust was something earned. Katze giving this Elite his favour was unconscionable to the minder’s simplistic view of order. It was almost unforgivable.

Admon’s lips thinned.

How much of that was latent jealousy and equally how much a vying for dominance of positioning within the fold?

Admon curled his slipper clad feet up on the seating and pondered this as the streets gradually became well lit and filled with plain clothes security details the closer they came to the club.

His Master’s hand was in this as was the running water kiosks so prized by those who could not afford it in their dwellings beyond the rationed, medicated variety that fowled their food stuffs and drink, rendering them barren, impotent and short lived.

Ruby eyes looked upward at the receding cloud cover, a half smile playing about his lips as the moons shun down once more on the streets casting a pewter glow upon its wet surface.

“Change his water rations going forward, Donovan. Use the kiosks instead that the Master provides. The medication is in conflict with his system, hence the...” Admon paused, “illusions.”

“Shut the fuck up! Do I look like I’m made of money, asshole?” Guy snarled, glad of something to vent his spleen on, cause this entire ride had felt eerie with Asswipe giving him that know it all fuckin’ look every time he turned around.

“Guy,” Donovan retorted with a long suffering sigh, “enough already. Let him speak.”

Bison’s leader whirled on the minder, whose rigid set of jaw bespoke challenge.

“What the fuck? Don’t listen to him. It’s more fuckin’ expensive than rancid gutter stout! What difference will it make? So what if he fucking thinks he’s in a freakin cell being slowly starved to death on a distant moon or wherever the fuck he thinks he is? The drugs work fine. Stick to that.”

The vehicle lurched to an abrupt halt.

“None of your business, Guy, he’s my baby brother.”

The minder looked in the rear view mirror for a long moment, catching the crimson eyes that bore into him as Guy continued to curse even more volubly at being ignored by the like minded duo.

Admon inclined his head subtly before returning to his gaze to the night.

They were close now. Even from this distance he could see the ancient neon sign lit just above the doorway.
"Extreme pleasure governs life and death."
How like his Master was the inert gas which secreted its powers to light until fuelled by the movement of the invisible electrodes that lay otherwise dormant in the delicate glass filament that held it captive; force was everything when applied judiciously, even at the subatomic level bringing the most vibrant of hues to life.

He could only hope Raoul finally understood his purpose and what he must protect before his call came, because it would soon come.

Secretively Guy watched the irritating half smile returning to Admon’s lips in the side mirror. He hated that otherworldly look, almost as if the fucker knew something and wasn’t about to share.

What was with the removing of one glove?

Admon was jolted from his internal reverie by suddenly cold air wafting through the opened rear door before scuffed boots met his sight.

“Out! We’re here, Pretty Boy. Make yourself scarce before I wipe that smile off your face.”

Dark merlot slowly looked up into the harsh furtive countenance and smiled before alighting from the vehicle, his ungloved fingers touching the hand atop the door in passing.

Guy wanted to recoil from the cold inhuman touch and the terrifying eyes that bore into him as Admon rose gracefully and exited the vehicle heading for the guarded stairs that lead down into Depraved.

It could not have been more than a few seconds of contact, Donovan thought staring over the hard top at Guy’s ashen face. The kid was shivering visibly while examining his own gloved hand in disbelief.

“Forgive yourself, Guy. He has.” Admon said without turning as the doors were opened allowing him entrance.

‘Was that entirely wise, Admon?’ came the soft feminine purr within the android’s mind.

‘Only time will tell. Even he deserves a chance at grace,’ he answered while quickly traversing the main club floor away from the cacophony of inebriated minds that assailed him to the safety of his quarters. They were most fortunate in this, not being able to hear each other’s chaotic thought patterns and mostly destructive, albeit of self.

‘Rest, Admon. I will attend instead.’

‘But what of him this night, Ajna?’

No response.

Admon stilled atop the stair well that lead to his room. He was safe from public view, save from the security cameras.

‘Ajna?’

He felt the warmth envelop him subtly affecting his limbs and ability to move. He slid down the wall taking the full measure of the input that came at him in waves of discontent and blinding anger.

Admon found the insufficient word for the chaotic maelstrom he had just experienced. ‘Hurt...’

‘Yes. I must attend, Admon.’

He said thank you to the pregnant silence of the hall before slowly getting to his feet, discarding the slippers in the hallway. He needed to feel the rich carpeting beneath his feet once again and rid himself of the saline moisture upon his cheeks.

~~~BMR~~~

Just shy of dawn and he was still playing pool. No more takers, the night shift had ended but for the lone barman keeping vigil, sporadically giving the minder the eye impatiently.

Sipping the tepid black coffee with a look of disgust etched on his worn handsome face, Donovan nodded his assent returning tired bleary eyes to the terminal once more, peripherally noting Guy racking another and centering the cue ball to break.

“Guy?”

Bison’s leader raised his head, steely gray eyes looking in the direction of the minder hunched over the terminal in the rear booth.

“What?”

Donovan inclined his head to the bartender, who yawned. “Last call. Get ‘em in quick, little man.”

Bison’s leader chalked his cue silently, eyes still fixed on Donovan. “I’ll pass. Feel like keeping my wits about me tonight.”

“Since when? By now you’d be three sheets to the wind.”

A cocky smile settled over Guy’s face as he leaned in and broke sending the multi-coloured spheres hurtling sinking a stripe.

He studied the table, choosing his next shot as he spoke. “Is Allurian brandy on offer?”

The minder snorted and shook his head. “Sure, if you’re payin’ moneybags?”

At least he was speaking. Completely out of character all night; hadn’t picked a fight with any wayward patrons. Hadn’t tried to get as much free stout down his gullet as per usual, just played and cleaned a few clocks credit wise. He could afford it.

“Sure. My treat, Baldy, since it doesn’t look like this night’s going to amount to much.”

“Thanks.” Donovan answered distractedly, rubbing the back of his neck and glaring at the monitor willing it to cooperate.

“Maybe it comes with a price though. Are you willing to pay it, Donny Boy?”

Donovan chuckled and nodded to the bartender who silently placed two tumblers and a half empty bottle on the bar before adding the tally to his tablet for the night. He always intended to pay but he did need to see what Guy would do. Something was entirely off ever since the incident with Admon. Guy had withdrawn into himself.

“Deal, little man.”

“Hey! Those aren’t right.” Guy pointed at the bar man accusingly, beginning to rummage in his pocket for credits, carefully counting his haul. “Want the sniffing ones. If I’m payin’ we’re doing this shit right. I want that fancy crystal shit the Boss drinks out of. Not the cheap cut glass rubbish.”

The barman looked to Donovan who shrugged before replacing the glasses and strode away tabulating his final tablet before Guy got any other ideas above his station.

“Yo asshole, I saw that! You can forget gettin’ a tip!”

Guy gave the barman retreating back an evil narrow eyed look before returning his attention to Donovan. “Did you see that? Just walked away like my credit wasn’t good enough.”

“All taken care of, relax, Guy.”

“What the fuck? I thought I was payin’ for the round?”

“Nope, my treat, Baby... Enjoy. It’s the least I can do for you riding shotgun tonight.”

“Not so fast, Donny Boy. Who said I agreed?”

Guy kissed his teeth and shoved the metallic discs back in his pockets, giving the revolving door a final look, somewhat disappointed his own gesture had fallen flat with Donovan, who probably thought he had been kidding. They’d eat like princes for a week with what his pocket held. Maybe even afford the water, if it wasn’t too dear.

“So you think a drink seals the deal? Do I look that easy?”

Donovan smiled roguishly looking over the fine specimen of a mongrel who preened beneath his assessing gaze. It really was best he didn’t tease. Guy was nothing if not sensitive, though you could never tell him that. He had to get this shit finished anyway. Jupiter knew, Katze would be checking in soon enough and would have a shit fit if the books weren’t in order.

“I thought the Brandy closed the deal, Baby?” Much safer bet to play along, maybe the irascible mongrel would finally share what had been bothering him all evening. Cause something had.

Guy chalked his cue irritably refusing to bite at the intended bait.

“Hell no, Baldy, I’m not one of your cheap playthings and how many times have I told you not to call me, Baby?”

“So what do you want in exchange... Baby?” Donovan answered playfully, ignoring the raised chin and the stern set of face just looking for a reason to be offended.

Why wasn’t the total balancing? Only off fourteen credits this time. Fuck if it came to it, he’d just take it out of his own balance. Wait....the Allurian Brandy! Got it! Balanced!

“The deal is you get up off that fine ass of yours and come over here and play a game of Eight- ball with me and leave that shit for a minute. Loser takes it.”

The minder’s head rose to look back at the mongrel casually perched on the edge of the stool with cue between his legs, tapping the floor rhythmically in annoyance at being ignored.

“Don’t you mean winner takes all?”

A slow lurid smile curved Guy’s lips, continuing to stroke leather clad fingers over the cue’s surface suggestively, while pale grey eyes wandered possessively over the bodyguard.

“Yeah, that’s another way of puttin’ it, Donny Boy. So you comin’ or what?”

Donovan closed the terminal and stretched languidly, easing the crick in his back.

“Well that depends on you now, doesn’t it?”

Was it his imagination or did Guy just colour rather prettily at his suggestive rejoinder?

He flexed for good measure very aware of his blushing audience of one.

“I’m game, sweet cheeks.”

Guy tried to avert his gaze from the ripple of a well muscled chest and the enticingly sleek midriff beneath the skin tight black tee-shirt.

When had this game he initiated turned on him?

The chalk had practically disintegrated to dust between is fingers and the cue tip. That paced
stride to the bar, not to mention that seriously fine ass currently turned towards him as Donovan poured two generous portions was not helping any of his convictions not to be swayed from his own personal resolution, other than to tease the ox into submission.

Cerulean eyes levelling the chestnut haired mongrel with a flat stare. Guy self consciously attempted to dust off the excess chalk on his shirt.

“Slow down, stroke the tip gently.”

Couldn’t really tell with the overgrown ox, if that was one of those, fuck what were they called? Oh yeah, metaphors, or not. Was Donovan flirting with him? Fucker had taken long enough, but it was too late now. He didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Well, little man? Just gonna stand there or play this out to the bitter sweet end?” Donovan chuckled, handing Guy his drink.

Guy swigged and coughed. The burn felt good going down, even if he felt suddenly light headed with Donovan’s nearness.

“Solids and fuck you to hell and back, you got maybe an inch on me, maybe two,” Guy answered around the lump in his throat that was his heart, surreptitiously eyeing the slow graceful movements of the guard as he slide his snifter down the smooth bar’s surface before sidling up behind him and choosing his own cue.

The fucker was taking far more time than was strictly necessary in the selection.

“Stop stalling. Call your pocket, Baby. The nights getting old and I need some.”

Pointedly ignoring the minder’s nearness as he chalked his own cue deliberately this time, Guy prepared to call his next shot, entirely too aware of the presence behind him.

“Thirteen. Right corner pocket.”

Donovan leaned over Guy’s shoulder studying the lay of the table.

“Won’t make it, kiddo, look at the angle, four and seven are in the way,” the minder offered laying his cue flat on the table, pointing out the near impossible shot and the angle that would be required in hitting the ball just so, allowing the other paw-like hand settled over Guy’s left hip nonchalantly.

Guy bit his lower lip attempting to suppress the involuntary tremors the intimate feel of Donovan’s warm breath caused and the sweep of a palm down his side.

If he was trying to spoil his aim, wasn’t going to work. He’d have to do a damn sight better than that.

“Wanna bet?”

Sniggering softly Donovan winked, settling his own cue between his legs as he leaned back against the bar and raised his snifter in a toast.

“Depends...”

Donovan was definitely making fun of him while sizing him up as he leaned over the table. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the implication by the subtle shift of limbs as he prepared to chalk his own cue, returning the drink to the bar.

“On?”

Just a fraction of a second is all it took.

“This.”

That unanticipated hand that cupped and squeezed his cock effectively killed his aim as the balls went hurtling to and fro. Guy’s eyes widened in disgust watching the eight-ball slowly roll across the surface, rimming and then sinking into a corner pocket.

Donovan laughed out loud at Guy’s expression.

“Game over, Baby, shall we?”

Cerulean eyes roamed over Guy as he practically purred with enjoyment before palming his own crotch smugly.

“Been waitin’ on this ride for days, Baby; can’t blame a guy for cheating, now can you?”

Kind of funny really, damn he was pissed at being caught off guard. Yep, the kid was hot and seriously pissed if the heavy breathing was anything to go by and the firm set of shoulders prepared to fight. Much better than the passive aggressive bullshit he was going on with earlier.

“You look seriously hot, little man, hair all wild and shit. I’m guessing you wanna go toe-to-toe right about now, am I right?”

“Fuck you!”

This was more like it. This was Guy.

“You didn’t actually state the rules, Baby. Who doesn’t cheat to get what they want?”

“Sure, asshole, with an enemy. My mistake; won’t happen again.”

“Come on, lighten up. You should see your face, like you’ve never been groped before.”

In lieu of an apology, the minder attempted to hand the chestnut haired mongrel his drink.

“Now where were we? Oh yeah, you peeling those off nice and slow and bending over the table all accommodating like. Me kissing the nape of your neck workin’ it in nice and slow just the way you like it. You squeezing the shit outta this bad boy all breathless and moaning, begging me to fuck you harder while I tug that beautiful mane of yours.”

Gray eyes had gone cold.

Donovan shifted his weight in preparation for the inevitable strike that was coming, smoothly palming his own crotch.

“Mmm...yeah...gonna feel so good. I’ve missed you.”

Guy’s upper lip began to twitch.

“Yeeeahah, boy have I missed coming in that tight little ass of yours all twitchy and needy like. Feels so good when you strangle my cock, milking it for dear life when you come all over my hand or chest, Baby’s always a quivering sexy mess then; always makes me wanna take you again.”

Cold pewter gray orbs were now menacing. It would not take much more to tip his fellow mongrel over the edge. Sometimes a double barrel attack was what it took.

“Riki has no idea what he’s missing. You’re a nice ride, Baby, one of the best. I’m sure Admon couldn’t compete.”

The left hook was not anticipated, nor the sudden taste of blood in the minders mouth as teeth connected with flesh and he stared back into an enraged and potentially lethal gaze.

“Never...ever...go there, Baldy!”

Donovan snorted and raised the snifter he held loosely between thick fingers.

The warm viscous liquid was dashed in his face by a forceful slap. It stung his eyes but not as much as the hurt he saw etched in Guy’s pained face.

Perhaps he had gone too far.

“What the fuck!?!”

“Stop treating me like a fucking joke, Donovan! I’ve killed men, harmed men for less.” Guy finished, snapping the cue across his knee and throwing the pieces across the bar towards the minder.

Donovan ducked, but not before the sharp edge of one of the halves glanced across his cheek, causing a gash. The minder dabbed at his cheek, fingers coming away with blood.

“You, Guy, are a fucking psycho!”

Guy flinched at the sight, gray eyes vaguely apologetic as he turned away and strode for the closed doors, determined to leave.

“Outta here, asshole! You had that coming.”

“Get your ass back here and explain yourself! What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?”

Hand over fist, the minder snagged the shirt off over his head and harshly wiped his face, glaring at the mongrel in open disbelief. Whatever had been bugging the idiot, was coming to the fore now thankfully. If this is what it took, so be it.

“Don’t make me tell you twice, Guy! Get your ass back here!” Donovan barked as he strode towards the retreating figure of the chestnut haired male. Yanking his bicep hard, the minder catapulted the wiry male onto the table’s surface holding him down as he growled into the mongrel’s face.

For the second time in Guy’s life he saw deathly anger in blue eyes.

There was a difference in these, however beyond shade. Guy saw genuine confusion and perhaps even hurt. That was unexpected. He was the injured party, not Donovan.

“Guy what the fuck?”

The hand about his throat brooked no argument in keeping him still, but there was a shadow in the look being given. Guy turned from the haunted questioning gaze. His own hands dropped from broad shoulders in defeat, awaiting the eventual outcome of his newest transgression against the one being since...since...what the hell did it matter? Not that anything he ever really wanted ever worked out anyway.

Might as well say it, even if it fell on deaf ears; he hadn’t ever said it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Donovan.”

The minder blinked, his grasp loosened to almost a caress as the bodyguard regarded him pensively before speaking.

“Not going to apologize for wanting you. I meant what I said.”

“Don’t want you to. Didn’t mean to...hurt ...”

‘What the fuck was wrong with his voice? Why couldn’t he speak?’

“Just talk to me, Baby.”

Was it really that easy? Had it really always been that easy to turn murderous, justifiable rage into a slackened grip that eased into a gentle, soothing caress of limbs? Guy felt those paw-like hands relinquish their grasp and lift him, allowing him to stand shame faced.

“Look at me, Guy.” Those same hands rough and calloused lifted his face gently. “Did Admon do something to you earlier? Is that what this is about?”

It felt strange this embrace. The feel of his arms coiled about the broad back seeking nothing more than the closeness offered in the moment. Not an enemy; never had been really. He’d only ever had one enemy, himself.

Tentatively Guy leaned into forgiveness and its welcomed warmth.

“No. I’ve always done it to myself, Donovan.”

The minder lifted his head a sad, relieved smile on his care worn face.

“It’s a start, little man, owning it. We all have to.”

Guy sighed noting the two single blood drops on the pristine white tee-shirt. Luke was going to kill him.

“You’re leaking, Baldy.”

The lips that smothered his into silence were warm as was the body that conformed to his and the hands that gently carded his hair in that familiar and wholly comforting way.

‘Thank God he washed it. The fucker was obsessed with his hair.’

Forgiveness, if this was it, felt good.

~~~BMR~~~

An actual meal shared; genuine laughter and the promised firelight casting long ghostlike shadows about the bedroom.

Katze was mesmerized by the licking flames and the gentle sporadic pop. He’d learnt quickly enough how fast the embers could travel, almost hitting the carpet at one point with an injudicious poke.

“Not too much with the stoking, Katze, leave it be and return to bed. I am unaccountably attached to the carpeting.”

Though crouched the dealer turned amber lit eyes to the being holding the sheets aloft beckoning him.

“You can watch the dying embers from here just as well. I grow cold.”

“Hardly, you’re all furnaces in my opinion. Can always tell when one of you is close. Thank Jupiter our nights are cold or you’d be out of luck.”

A pale brow rose as Raoul tapped the bedding meaningfully. “You do that so well, a slap and a caress all without ever missing a beat. Come here, Katze.”

Katze stood a wry smile coming to his lips as he allowed his robe to puddle about his feet and moved towards the bed. It never failed to please him the appreciative heated gaze his nudity brought to Raoul’s usually impassive countenance.

“See, we are going to have to work on that command thing, if you ever plan on getting any tonight or any other night going forward, Raoul Am. Kinda pisses me off to no end each time you do it, like I have no say when we are alone. Save that shit for the public face.”

Raoul glared down his patrician nose at the male who settled in next to him, but kept his own counsel. All forms of relating required compromise. His mongrel was worth it.

Katze ignored the indignant look and edged closer resting his head upon Raoul’s naked shoulder.

“Make yourself useful. Open your arms. I need your warmth.”

The Elite obliged stiffly, accepting the moderately cooler skin’s touch, relaxing instantly as Katze settled in next to him, head tilted at an angle watching the dimming light of the fireplace as long fingers smoothed over Raoul’s abdominal muscles rhythmically.

“Ceres, I have a name Raoul. I have a name all my own.”

“A name of origin, Katze, this speaks volumes as to your ancestry and that of the Rubies.”

Katze kissed the bicep thrown over his shoulder absently before fingering the golden tendrils about his fingers with a secretive smile.

“God that must piss Sir Up-His-Ass off to no end. I remember the edge that always came off him with each encounter. Didn’t know what it was then, but now it has a name – fear. We might be related.”

“Katze, we agreed to leave this subject until morning when I will have had ample time to discuss with Sir Niiro his experiments and their ramifications.”

Katze snorted. “You’re all still hiding something, not going to press. Have my own shit to work out for the time being.”

Raoul nodded, nuzzling closer to the soft cool strands beneath his lips, listening intently to his mongrel’s breathing, enjoying the closeness.

“You speak of Admon, however circuitously, am I correct?”

“Gotta be careful with this, Sir Am. He came back for a reason. My gut tells me Admon knows shit he’s not sharing. A lot like a certain Blondie, I know.”

“Undoubtedly,” Raoul answered noncommittally with a slight edge to his voice.

The dealer settled heavily against the Elite’s side, insinuating a limb between the Blondie’s legs with a chuckle, his own member taking happy interest in the pleasing discovery of budding interest on his Elite’s part.

Raoul was definitely not as tired as he pretended.

“Someone’s awfully alert and perky all of a sudden, thought that was your knee under there.”

“Why are you so determined?” Raoul yawned, stopping the hand that had been causing him no end of grief physically by slowly wending its way towards his nether regions with each circular caress of finger tips.

“Any of that mongrel marking his territory conversation come to mind, Sir Am?”

“I thought you desired rest? We agreed over dinner no leading touches that might insight. If necessary I shall command you to stop, which should cool your ardour you little hypocrite. Unlike you, I am sufficiently disciplined and polite not to make mention of your own obvious arousal. ”

Katze pursed his lips and winked at the Elite.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a pedant?”

“I beg your pardon, Mongrel!?!”

“I like the begging part, Sir Am.” Katze quipped ducking under the sheets for a better view.

He really was faster and stronger than his lithe frame looked to the naked eye, Raoul thought allowing his lower limbs to be dragged down and around lean flanks.

“Katze! Get back up here this instant!”

“Shame there’s no chocolate,” Katze’s muffled voice answered beneath the sheets. Raoul shivered in response to the feel of warm, moist breath ghosting along his hip bone.

“I command you to...to...Katze... what are you ....oooohhh ....yes,well.... since you are already uuhm...engaged, a little to the left... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... I...I.......will alllooooooooooooooowwwwwww....dear Jupiter...don’t stop.”

“Almost a Wolf call that,” Katze licked his fingers, amused by the sudden groan of frustration above the sheets and the soft pants of acquiescence. Who was the hypocrite indeed?

“Wh-why have you stopped?” the Elite inquired indignantly, raising his hips. Yep. Blondie sounded genuinely aggrieved at being denied the wet suction of his mouth, even for a moment.

“Haven’t,” the dealer snickered with a teasing swipe of tongue against the already fully engorged length.

“Be patient with your Mongrel, Sir Am. I like taking time with dessert. Tastes better that way, even without chocolate.” Katze mused aloud contently.

There really was no better way to end an evening but with a good bout of thrashing Elite probably biting through his lower lip trying desperately not to awaken Deek, as a long finger tentatively began to probe and stretch him with each deft stroke of tongue.

Yes, he rather enjoyed Raoul’s incoherent keening, just needed to work on controlling the reflexive motion of muscular thighs, if he wanted to avoid being choked to death.

~~~BMR~~~


“You called me by name,” Donovan moaned softly into his pillow, enjoying the feel of that moist tongue’s probing insistence and the splayed fingers kneading his ass cheeks.

“Big fuckin’ whoop, Baldy. Want more tongue? You’re still kinda tight.”

He felt Guy shift bodily, yanking his hips back forcefully. The kid had absolutely no grace.

“Go easy, Guy. I’ve never...”

“Fuck why so tight, Donny Boy, can’t even feel my fingers up there but for the heat.” Guy chuckled half heartedly, the vaguest of trepidation causing his gut to tighten; it just wasn’t possible. The man was a whore.

Donovan stifled a grimace into the pillow.

“Come on, try to relax. Flip over, let me suck you for a bit, might help you enjoy this more.”

The none too gentle slicked fingers that forced their way beyond the tight ring of muscle withdrew just as suddenly as they had entered him.

“Okay, whatever you want,” Donovan hissed at the burn, turning over to face Guy fully. “You’re gonna need a pillow this way. Never mind the blow job. I can take it.”

Guy’s brows furrowed noting the tightly scrunched eyes and rigid jaw atop the pillow not to mention the flaccid cock. “You’re killing the mood, Baldy. Pass the lube. It’s not like you’ve never done this before, right?”

Donovan gritted his teeth, trying desperately to breathe through the pain as Guy’s fingers re entered him.

“Let’s try this again,” Guy said clinically, adjusting the minder’s pelvis atop his strong thighs for a better angle.

Donovan shivered at the coldness of the slicked fingers jarring probe.

“Take it easy, Guy. I’m not fighting you. I want this. I want you.”

“Damn right you’re not. I won fair and square cause you cheated, so don’t start with this virginal shit in hopes I won’t fuck you raw.”

“Just askin’ you to go slow for a bit, you know, til I get use to it. Won’t take long, just be patient, I’m begging you.”

“What the fuck do you mean by get use to it? Everyone knows you’re the biggest whore around the club.”

Cerulean eyes opened as Donovan gripped the bed head with a pained smile of encouragement, eyeing Guy’s fully erect member leaking pre-cum in anticipation of its conquest.

“That’s cause I’ve never been topped before, Baby.”

The burning, pained slide within ceased as Guy carefully withdrew slicked fingers and ungraciously wiped them on pristine white sheets in silence, gray eyes level with that of bright blue.

“Fuckin’ idiot, I could have hurt your ass!”

Despite the indignant glare, Donovan sniggered at the unintended pun.

“This isn’t funny, moron! You gotta tell your lover this kind of shit. It’s important, Donovan. No wonder the limp dick routine. Thought I’d lost my touch or somethin’,” Guy said, unceremoniously shoving Donovan’s splayed limbs off his thighs.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tool sometimes.” Guy pointed to the head of the bed. “Sit up and spread ‘em. Gonna suck you instead. We’ll take it as it goes tonight until you’re ready for me inside you.”

Donovan blinked, somewhat confused by the turn of events.

‘Guy being chivalrous; had he been underestimated him all this time?’

“What about you? That boner looks painful.”

Guy unselfconsciously eased himself back between the wide spread legs of the minder and began humping the sheets in lieu as he firmly gripped Donovan’s hips.

“Not to worry. That big mouth of yours’ll come in handy real soon, Baldy. The sheet’ll have to do for the time being.”

Donovan shrugged and waggled his brows, placing well muscled arms behind his head, flexing well honed abs for good measure.

Guy’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t even think I’m letting you off that easy. I want in, but I can wait unlike the monster. He’s lookin’ kinda depressed from where I’m layin’.”

The minder closed his eyes in surrender lowering one hand to card the thick mane beneath his fingers.

Who was he to protest soft wet lips laying tentative feather light kisses over the skin of his inner thighs as those same fingers that caused pain moments before, gently worked his rapidly thickening and lengthening cock to wakeful toe curling bliss.

It felt so good, the light graze of teeth, just so and the firm pulling suction of a surprisingly artful mouth.

‘Admon had nothing on Baby.’

~~~BMR~~~


Admon’s smile was beatific as he gazed upon the twin moons bright and resilient in the ink black sky. Pride but not of the false variety, Guy finally had it and genuine care where he least intended it.

“Yes Guy, there is a lot to be said for self respect and forgiveness is freeing.” He whispered in the hallowed darkness.

The glow of morning would be here soon, Admon thought, changing everything. He would wait for Ajna’s return in the meeting of minds before slumber.

For now, he was content to stand atop the cold balcony, basking in the firm feel of fortified stone beneath his feet. There would be a time where the luxury of this would be nothing more than memory.

He sighed. They really had no idea what a privilege it was to engage the sense of touch until it was lost. The very best gift Sir Niiro had given both he and his sibling but at a price.

~~~BMR~~~

“You are late. The Chosen is never late to the call.”

Iason bowed deeply to the filmy smoke like entity whose wraithlike presence had taken on an eerie, frenetic crimson glow in the otherwise colourless gray room where a single chair awaited its occupant.

Jupiter was angry, if that was possible.

“They have communed, despite my best efforts.”

Not a question, an accusation, implying Tanagura leader’s complicity.

Iason sat, his ice blue eyes lowering discreetly between steepled fingers.

“Abject apologies for my tardiness, the mongrel was indisposed.”

“You lie, my first born. Why?”

The repugnant gossamer like tendrils that once cloistered him again wound about his chest, caressing his limbs searching for entry.

He closed his eyes and entered the space, the dark place where Jupiter never ventured, the alien place, the human place, where no footing could be held with surety. It was too chaotic and devoid or reason for a being designed and born of reason alone.

Time had taught him this, or more accurately Riki.

He had never been able to follow him there and in so doing, a safe space had been created, a space that had cost them much in misunderstandings.

This fundamental but learnt difference was refuge for the Syndicate leader, such irony.

After all, the Elite were merely the modified progeny of the First Ones. They too could master this space, perhaps with more alacrity than the actual mongrel themselves who lived in chaos.

For them it was not a refuge.

The clawing attempt at warmth receded from his mind.

“Clever. I am never able to follow you there, but I can surmise what is hidden there, Iason. I know of your indiscretions of youth. I humoured them out of curiosity but there must be an end to this. Bring the mongrel Katze to me. I can follow him to the appropriate end.”

Iason inclined his head. “Of course, I live to serve.”

~~~BMR~~~


No one was privy to the shift of countenance upon the face of the male Karinese in the nondescript chamber. No one was aware of the surge of energy that riffled through the room or the eyes that became white hot as they rolled back into the android’s head.

The day had finally come for recompense.

Author’s Note

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know. Do feel free to stare at my beautiful portrait of Katze that tops my Live Journal posts. He is so stunning, I feel compelled to share. Kir-Tata captured my vision entirely. The woman is spectacularly talented.

Namaste

EP