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 – NC -17ish

Parts: WIP – 7 of 25

Reviews are fuel.

And this chapter might seem to come out of left field for some, but trust me on this, it does serve a purpose. Everyone, on occasion deserves a change of pace…a reckoning. As always, I hope you enjoyed A_ngua. You were the spark of inspiration.


Chapter 7 of 25 – An Acceptable Crush (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Wisps of smoke danced about a pale patrician face set like granite. Eyes the colour of fine aged cognac pinned that of nervous, cornered gray ones across the expansive desk that separated them in more than rank and power.

“What exactly were you thinking when you came up here last night without my permission, Guy?”

Bison’s leader shrugged and eased back into the very familiar couch, long fingers coiled to strike as they lay against worn jeans.

Katze’s perceptive eyes languidly followed the fidgety movement of his fellow mongrel with mild satisfaction, his own thighs tensed in anticipation of a move. Guy was shitting himself, but needed to maintain the fearsome façade, never a good sign. Still, this could work - without needless bloodshed on either of their parts.

“Waiting on you. How the fuck was I to know that you were ‘busy’ getting the shit fucked out of you and didn’t want to be disturbed?”

Or not.

Guy was seriously trying his patience this morning and was a hair’s breadth from having his ass kicked.

The red-head leaned forward in the plush leather desk chair, stubbed out his fourth smoke and reached for his own steaming coffee cup.

“Watch the tone, Guy.”

A slow malicious smile curved full lips. For the first time Bison’s leader saw a means of taking charge of the fairly tenuous situation. Katze was being inordinately quiet and watchful. By now he usually would have had his ass handed to him by one of his myriad thugs.

“Or what?” Guy drawled with a speculative narrowing of his eyes as he raked over the attractive, darkly clad male who sat across from him.

Bison’s leader rose and approached the red-head seated behind the polished desk, his eyes settling on the bruised and slightly swollen cheekbone.

Katze’s eyes followed his approach with a hint of unease, the fingers of one hand mere centimeters from the silent alarm secreted on the underside of the desk.

As if he knew, Guy stopped in front of the desk and raised his hands in feigned surrender.

“No need for that, Boss. I just wanna know something?”

The tension building in Katze’s gut eased. He carefully sipped with a bland expression. Guy was a wild card, but useful. What would it hurt to hear him out before co-opting his silence? Neither of them stood to gain, if this got out.

He placed the cup down resolutely and looked up into the suspiciously hooded expression gracing the ruggedly care worn face. Guy was taking too careful an inventory of his features, possibly gagging his reaction to something he was about to ask.

“What?”

It was always best to keep your enemies closer, giving them a false sense of security. Only then did they fully give themselves over to mistakes; costly mistakes.

Guy leaned forward over the desk, his voice taking on a richer, warmer almost indulgent tone as he spoke.

“Do you like it rough, Boss?”

Feather light, swift and entirely unanticipated, the back of a warm hand brushed his bruised cheek causing it to sting.

Katze recoiled from the unwanted intimacy, his hackles rising as he struck out without conscious thought, forgetting about the wide wooden surface separating them. The same large palm effortlessly blocked his tightly curled fist.

“Don’t EVER touch me, again. Not even in jest,” the red-head hissed venomously and extricated his hand from Guy’s slackened grip.

The chestnut-haired mongrel made no further move, instead selecting to perch on the side of the desk and handed Katze the open pack of Black Nocturnes as peace offering. It was rare to see any emotion from Katze of Midas.

“Well, Boss?”

“You’re still alive because I need you,” Katze whispered, barely keeping his breathing under control as he sat back in the chair and crossed his legs, feigning composure.


The black market dealer’s jaws clenched and unclenched, searing pain shooting through his jaw, an ever present reminder of his mistake.

Instinctively, Katze reached for the filter tipped cigarette and accepted the pro-offered light, pale eyes looking through sooty lashes evaluating the man before him with the irritating smirk.

Full lips curved in a half smile as Guy closed the lighter and pocketed it.

“No. I’m alive because you are scared shitless that I could fuck to hell your nice coochy setup with the head of the Tanagura Syndicate.”

Katze’s expression gave nothing away. He exhaled a plum of smoke and sat in contemplative silence.

Despite Guy’s thin grasp on reality and his propensity for psychotic violence, on rare occasions he did hit the nail on the head.

“What do you propose?”

Guy blinked, a cold shiver passed through his body at the silky soft question that held a veiled threat.

The black market dealer’s face was once again unreadable, shrouded as it was in thin wisps of dancing smoke, eerily coiling about his head like serpents. Guy knew he would have to tread carefully with his words.

Katze never gave second chances.


~~~BMR~~~


A desultory glance given to the views that rapidly passed the tinted screen of the limo confirmed Raoul’s suspicions.

Ceres did not improve by daylight.

Things best kept under cover of darkness came to life, casting a gray pall upon the already decrepit buildings and its denizens who crept out of their fitful slumber into the gray light of day.

Elegant gloved fingers tapped the module’s screen, dower expression set as he awaited a reply that never came. Katze was avoiding him.

Raoul gritted his teeth and closed the screen. It would not be long now and he would have his answer. True the pending shipment logs had been detailed to a fault accounting for the ‘discretely acquired’ genetic material essential for the next generation of Pets he intended to design.

The Elite’s eyes narrowed in thought. There was one unaccounted for item under miscellaneous, something the casual eye could easily have overlooked. In fact it had been by his second in command.

He wanted an explanation and his glove, of course. There would be no other motive for returning to this dank, desolate place.

~~~BMR~~~

When Guy had regained consciousness at the bottom of the stairs, a dull thudding ache behind his eyes presaged quiet footfalls and the heat of a body hovering over his splayed form.

Gray eyes tried to focus with difficulty. He still could not understand why Katze had clocked him for so simple a suggestion. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have allowed the damn man to top on occasion. What was the big deal? He had gone for the main credit agreement, why make a big deal about a little variety in his sexual menu?

Raoul gazed at the prone male before retracing the trajectory of his fall and put two and two together. Someone, possibly the wiry little red-head himself, had not been well pleased with Bison’s leader.

The Elite’s lips quirked as he gingerly stepped over Guy and took the stairs two at a time. He needed to confirm his surmise.

~~~BMR~~~

The day was going to shit fast.

Katze crushed the now empty pack of cigarettes and flipped the controls of the ever present monitors off as he looked out onto the tiny balcony overlooking his impromptu garage where Stee was busy applying a bit of spit and polish to his vehicle for their afternoon meetings.

Okay so he had agreed to the bribe. A slightly larger cut of the weekly takings for Guy’s continued silence but since when was he a whore? One simple mistake and he was back where he started, a fucking pawn in a game he had no control over.

His body would never be part of that deal.

The mere idea of Guy pawing him made his skin crawl with revulsion. He curled and uncurled his fist in anger. Damn it! That hurt too. His knuckles were red, painful and growing stiffer by the minute.

At this rate he would be nothing more than a bruise by end of day.

His fussy little man-servant had entered the room wordlessly with a gentle cough and left as quickly as he had come.

Katze turned, a rueful half-smile gracing his lips. Kato had earned his keep with an ice bucket half full with cubes and water, situated for his Master’s convenience.

Amber eyes fell upon his cell next. When had he turned that off? He owed Riki a call. Why in hell, did he keep feeding him with information about the reprobate even after all this time and without Iason’s permission?

Guy had pretty much cost him his life and still he cared.

“Stupid kid.”

Forgiveness had never been a strong suit of the ex-Furniture. A failing perhaps, but one he would have no issue living with. The kid was different. He had a good heart. Something Katze had long disposed of. It served no purpose.
He shook his head and looked out into the middle distance, the silence about him was excruciating. Without the comforting thrum of his monitors, an ominous silence settled about him auguring trouble.

The challenge was deciphering from whence it would come.

Uncharacteristically the lithe male threw himself on the couch and slouched dejectedly, uncaring that his imported linen trousers would now have an unacceptable crush. He still had to meet up with Iason in an hour for the weekly debrief.

Taking his uninjured hand, the red-head slowly pulled the ice bucket forward and plunged his throbbing fingers into it, gritting his teeth in agony with a slight curse; unaware that he was being observed by a pair of keen emerald green eyes.

Security would have to be doubled, effective immediately and a closer watch kept on Guy and his hoard when not on ‘duty’. If it came to it, he would issue the order with extreme prejudice. Hell, he might just do it himself, if pushed. There would be no more overlooking Guy’s minor indiscretions.

Placing the cold bucket in his lap, Katze shivered, now enjoying the discomfort as gooseflesh formed down his back, shocking him to the reality of the moment.

“What the fuck else could go wrong today?” he murmured to the unforgiving silence which unexpectedly answered him in rich silken tones.

“Well, for one you might be asked about a miscellaneous item that has, ever so discretely, managed to stow away on my medical manifest.”

The bucket and its contents crashed to the floor as well as its holder who lay blinking up at the tall, formidable Blondie who stood by the door with pursed lips.

Katze closed his eyes in resignation and willed his heart to stop racing. Better yet, how kind would it be for it to stop beating entirely, no such luck.

“Fuck …fuck…fuck me to hell and back…” Where was security when you needed them? Not that it would have stopped Raoul.

“Come, come now, little mongrel. There will be time enough to indulge your perverse fascination with copulation and the floor. Answer the question.”

No question about it. This day had gone to shit and it didn’t help that the inquisitor in question had pressed his broad back to the door as it hissed closed with a foreboding finality; nor did the red-head miss the assent to sexual favors in no way requested.

Katze gulped and hurriedly stood, brushing cubes of ice from places they really had no business being as Raoul’s otherwise flawless countenance became less than bored. Verdant eyes taking a slow, precise inventory of the mongrel’s flushed face, lean, taut body always tastefully accoutered.

Time slowed markedly for the black market dealer as his agile mind sought for a reasoned response. Unbeknownst to the Blondie, this time, perhaps the only time, he had found him out. Lowering his gaze and adjusting his stance Katze spoke in a smooth velvet tone, designed to appease.

“Master Am? How might I be of service?”

Raoul’s gait was slow and even as he approached, gloved finger tips lifting the always diffident chin. “Answer the question, Katze. I’m not in the mood for you sycophantic fawning. Reserve that for Iason, your former Master.”

It was how the Blondie said ‘former’ that caused the ex-Furniture to look up into piercing green eyes. It was in the feel of warm, smooth lips taking possession of his and a wet, hot tongue importunately demanding entry that foretold his demise as he acquiesced once again to the demands of his body.

It was also where he found an out; a believable one, while long tapered fingers smoothed over the curve of his ass and squeezed, pulling him fully into the power of that strong, hot body currently cleaving to his, making his pending desires known.

His mind slowly powered down; its main focus, the burgeoning thrum of another kind as their hips moved sinuously together and backward movement gave way to the feel of cool wood firm beneath his back.

Long pale fingers, of their own volition twined in the soft golden silk that shrouded his face, while an agile tongue explored his wet mouth languidly; perhaps he was a whore; but a selective whore to be exact. Right now however, there was the pressing matter of dry humping an Elite with a similar mindset.

~~~BMR~~~

“Drink this” was the gruff command as a strong hand held him up and hot liquid was forced into his mouth. Guy gagged in disgust.

“Little fucker. I’m trying to help you here. Drink it!”

Guy opened his uncooperative eyes and blinked, this time with success, slowly focusing on the bald pate of Katze’s personal guard.

“Whh..at?” he answered groggily, looking about the darkened room. He was on a cot in one of the cells in the basement.

“Just drink it and leave. I don’t have time for your bullshit. I need to get back upstairs before I’m missed.”

Guy grasped the cup of bitter, hot liquid and sipped.

“ I think you finally did it. The Boss never lifts his hand to anyone. What the fuck did you say to him?”

It was coffee. No wonder he felt sick. He never touched the filthy stuff; just as bad as water.

“Mind your own business, Baldy.”

The cot listed as the guard’s considerable weight shifted. “You’re an idiot. You know that, right?”

It took getting use to, but the fog was clearing slowly with each sip. Not the headache though. “Huh?”

“The Boss hit you. He never hits. That’s my job.”

Guy snorted, taking another cautious sip of the foul brew.

“Whatever…Still none of your business.”

“Look fucktard, this is serious. Effective immediately, you and your gang have lost your privilege to freeload in the club.”

For the first time, Bison’s leader sobered. This wasn’t good. So the attempted groping thing hadn’t gone over well.

“He’s just pissed. I’ll make it up to him tonight when I pick up the new shipment.”

A long silence followed as Guy watched the bodyguard rise, his shirt was still undone, revealing ink covering the greater part of a well muscled torso.

“You fucked up, kid. The job isn’t yours anymore. You’re crews been demoted to collecting bad debt.”

Up and off the cot in under a second, Guy made for the door, unsuccessfully.

“Like hell we are!”

~~~BMR~~~

Katze moaned and stiffened. Raoul stilled. There was nothing even vaguely come hither about the soft groan that had escape the little mongrel’s lips.

“Are you hurt?”

How irritating and just when he was getting to the heart of the matter.

“No, Master Am.”

Raoul braced himself on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie. Did he touch you inappropriately?”

Despite the ridiculousness of the query, Katze chuckled, a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

“Define inappropriate, Master Am?”

A gloved digit tapped the tip of his patrician nose in warning as he eased off the black market dealer’s prone form and stood.

“You’re good.”

Katze’s eyes followed the Blondie’s graceful movements. Raoul seemed fascinated by the butter soft leather of his desk chair. A single gloved digit fingered its fine, supple texture before the Elite in question deigned to sit.

“Yes…you are good at applying just enough subjectivity to your statements to forestall possible retribution while leaving an acrid taste of unspoken censure in the mouth. Very good, indeed.”

Raoul waved a gloved hand dismissively. “Get up. I am no longer interested in sampling you; adjust your clothing.”

The red-head’s eyes narrowed as he rose and faced the Elite. One too many times this morning, someone had overstepped.

“With respect, the item in question belongs to me and would have been accounted for. It in no way infringes on your time or shipment…Master Am. It was merely convenient and cost efficient.”

The Blondie’s lips quirked as a pale brow rose. “Two beats I think. Exactly two beats.”

Katze’s expression shifted to query while attempting to button his shirt. Two buttons were missing. Whatever game Raoul was playing this morning, he wasn’t up for it.

“Master?”

“How long it took you to apply the honorific. It was exactly two beats.”

Raoul steepled his fingers and looked about the office with a bored expression.

“Your pathetic way of challenging me, I suppose,” he added indifferently.

“It’s just music. Nothing worth your notice, Sir Am. If that is all?”

“No, it most certainly is not. Where is my glove?”

Even to Raoul’s ear his retort sounded juvenile, perhaps even petulant. Still, he would not stand to be summarily dismissed as he had been the night before.

Katze blinked in disbelief. Why was Raoul irritated? “It was sent with the shipping manifest. If you do not find it, be assured it will be replaced today, my humble apologies, Master Am.”

Green eyes narrowed. The supplicating stance Katze took was growing irritating to say the least, what with head bowed and curved shoulders that screamed obeisance. It did not suit the creature before him who had begun to tremble under his steady glare.

“Fine, I expect a replacement by end of day.”

Katze inclined his head further with a grimace. Raoul showed no signs of leaving. He could feel the penetrating gaze and it was becoming unnerving.

“Surely, you have applied a cold compress or two. Taken something, even?”

“Not my speed. I like feeling things, even pain. Keeps it real, Master Am.”

The derisive snort that greeted Katze’s revelation caused the red-head to snicker softly. This wasn’t something the Elite would ever understand, but that didn’t matter.

“When will we take delivery?”

“In a few hours, Sir Am,” the urge to re-iterate that this was all in the detailed documentation delivered before dawn was barely suppressed by thinned pale lips. Raoul was stalling but why?

“Why did you hit him?” The question was soft, too softly spoken.

Hooded amber refused to meet the questioning gaze. Katze shrugged, “Nothing of importance.”

That low knowing chuckle, “None of my business, you mean. Still, I am mildly curious as to what would make an otherwise submissive, like you, strike another?”

“With all due respect…”

“Rephrase if you please. Every time you use those four irksome words, it grates. What inevitably follows is never respectful.”

Katze sighed and turned his back on the Elite, uncaring of the possible repercussion. “I need a smoke.”

“Third shelf, behind that cheap leather bound tome. It’s not authentic by the way, merely a copy.”

It hurt to look over his left shoulder as he carefully removed the book that protected his emergency stash. “I am well aware, Master Am. Thank you for the information.”

“How many of those do you go through in the average day?”

Why were the questions so personal? What did Raoul want?

“Don’t know…Master Am?” Katze lit the cigarette, inhaled the fragrant smoke, and leaned against the shelving, eyes closed, grateful for the temporary respite from that disconcerting gaze;
a moment to think without interruption.

A slow secretive smile came to Katze’s full lips upon exhalation. Raoul was right. It was exactly two beats.

Warm breath ghosted across the black market dealer’s face, while two warm fingers traced his bruised cheek, causing his skin to tingle and burn.

“I told you, two beats, exactly.”

Katze leaned into the touch briefly, accepting the pain. “I’ll work on it…Master Am.”

“Repeated cold compresses, since you insist on being the stoic. Glove by end of day or there will be repercussions. I prefer what I deem mine, to remain so…exclusively.”

“Understood,” Katze whispered as he heard the port hissed open once more and the swish of material faded along with Raoul’s clean scent, “...Master Am.”


**********

Author’s Note:

*GRIN* Ever spiraling toward....but to what end? Only time will tell. I sincerely hope you enjoyed. I must say, this is my favourite chapter.

Namaste

EP