Niji
[Rainbow]

The Thirty-Two Flavors of Somewhat-Crushed-Violets Assassin Orgy Fun!

By Murasaki Shuishou and The Queen of Blueberry Toast

~*~

III: "Paint" [Version 1.0]

It was lunch time, and Hyde Park was dotted here and there with 
people seeking a bit of greento enliven their day.  The distant strains 
of Big Ben clanging out the half-hour rose softly over the roar of 
London's jammed streets.  From where Furii and Yuki lounged on the 
grass, snatches of laughter drifted to them over the shouts and jeers 
from Speakers' Corner.  It sounded as if someone was complaining about 
the government again. 

"That's all they ever seem to do," sighed Furii.  

A pair of ducks in the nearby pond began to squabble in a flurry of 
shrill quacking. They were soon answered by the squeaking of a 
sheet of wax paper as it was scrunched. Furii tore his attention away 
from the waving green of the oak boughs above them to look at Yuki, and 
found that he was apparently attempting to compress his sandwich 
wrapper into as tight a ball as he could get it. Furii watched him at 
his work until he had at last tossed it into the nondescript brown 
paper sack that had carried their lunches. Soon, the foil lid from a 
custard cup followed it. 

Despite the fact the sun had long since made its five minute debut in 
the skies over London, Furii still wore his pair of red wraparound 
shades. In their mirrored lenses, Yuki sat, hungrily swiping at the 
bites of custard that stubbornly clung to the grooved sides of the 
cup with the edge of his plastic spoon. 

"I could have bought you two of them, Yuki."

The tapping of his spoon along the cup's plastic sides ceased, and 
Yuki sank into fuzzy contemplation of Furii's offer. 

"Well?" 

Abruptly, Yuki shook his head in reply, and Furii hitched a shoulder 
in a shrug. "Suit yourself," he said, sinking fully down onto their 
frayed brownblanket. "Wake me when it's nearly 1."  

***
The boy was more than content to watch his companion doze; he made the 
most interesting little twitches, little pawing movements sometimes.  
Most assassins were like that when they slept, but Furii? Having seen 
him nod off in the car a few times, Yuki had become especially fond of 
admiring his puppy-like dream-echoes- the way his toes tugged the air 
and his fingers stole over his tattoos.

Presently, Furii wasn't near asleep, but Yuki, still nursing his 
custard spoon, crouched down beside him, close enough to detect the 
fine ticking of pores along his cheeks- Furii hadn't shaved very 
carefully that morning, otherwise, they would have been invisible.  The 
dusting of stubble just under his ears was faintly blond, and the 
tattoos Yuki found were really more midnight blue in places than black.

Then he remembered that it was better to disturb his companion a little 
than to forego breathing all together.  Naturally, the minute he drew 
breath, Furii turned his head, and presumably scowled at him from 
underneath the carnelian glare of his glasses.

Unfazed, the boy simply said something that had crossed his mind 
earlier, but sadly, done so at a time coinciding with a bite of his 
sandwich.  "My last five pounds says either Aya, Kuroe, Schuldich or 
Ken will have a fresh wound when we get home.  The kind that isn't 
self-inflicted."  And he waggled the wagered note about like a rather 
beige butterfly.   

***

"I'll see your bet and I'll match you a plate of bangers and mash 
--or whatever you want--from that diner down the road if Kuroe is the 
one who gets hurt," he said. "Though...I have a feeling you're going 
to win. Between Aya and Ken both, neither Kuroe or Schuldich have a 
chance."

***

Yuki's tongue flickered out over his lips.  "Bangers and mash sounds 
fine."

After all, his love of sweets was not exclusive, nor was his most-of-
the-time vegetarianism.  A little meat here and there wouldn't hurt: it 
was the compulsion to eat it every day that bothered him and his 
finicky waistline.  

"I look forward to being treated." He smiled and withdrew somewhat from 
his companion's shoulder, folding his hands behind his head.  He half 
expected his knuckles would dig him, but no, with the soft urban meadow 
beneath them they didn't.  Too much time in New York he supposed.  Not 
that he wanted to think much about that.  

So naturally, the moment he decided he wouldn't, a host of eerily clear 
images passed over his mind- things more vivid than his eyes could ever 
give to him now, clearer than the sunlight when there was clear 
sunlight.  For now only the shifting of the smoky-topaz clouds lay 
beyond his recollections once they left him.

More or less.

"It's getting to be rather tiring, pretending I don't know about Aya 
and Ken.  I have trouble believing they got so upset over the scratch 
that pig gave Aya, when Ken is... a kamisori-ma."

(OOC: Kamisori-ma, literally razor-demon, generally refers to people 
who like to make cuts in other people's clothing while riding on the 
train.  However, it's offensive, and easily adaptable to this 
situation.)

***

"They were probably more upset over the fact that the pig drew blood 
from 'virgin' territory," Furii replied. "Poor Ken didn't get there 
first." 

Yuki gave a breathy little chuckle. Furii rolled onto his side, 
tucking his bent arm under his head. The wind had spread Yuki's dark 
hair across his forehead and cheek. Furii, without giving any 
thought to the consequences, reached over and brushed the inky 
strands away, just skimming his skin. 

"I don't believe they think they're fooling anyone--if they were ever 
trying to, that is."

***

"Sometimes I just don't know.  For two people to put such a value on 
privacy and then drip blood all over the hallway on their way to the 
bathroom..." but there wasn't any need for him to finish his thought. 

In the mean time, Yuki reached over and returned the touch Furii had 
given him by straightening his glasses for him- they had gone a bit 
skewed.  One of his finger tips lingered an instant on his tattoos- the 
skin felt smoother than the rest of him, but he at once regretted 
having touched something so personal of Furii's, and jammed his hands 
in his pockets.

"What I never under stood was the way Aya contradicts himself about it.  
He likes to cut Ken, and likes to have Ken cut him- at least some of 
the moaning I've heard leads me to believe it's a mutual thing.  But he 
doesn't like... to see anyone else bleed.  He sat with me the whole time 
I was being bandaged after my unpleasant encounter with shrapnel."

Yuki gestured somewhat to his eyes, and right on cue, Furii's face grew 
pale and indistinct before him.  

***

"I don't think it's a contradiction," countered Furii. "He's not 
hurting himself or Ken, not really. It's just what they like to do 
in bed. There's nothing evil about it, not like what happened to 
you." 

Sliding his shades off, Furii sat up, propping himself on one elbow. 
Around his eyes, the long scars still shone. He had the urge to 
stroke him there, but he squelched it; given the way Yuki had so 
firmly put his hands out of temptation's way, it was the prudent 
decision. 

Still...

"You didn't have a choice: no one was playing with you, they wanted 
to make you suffer. Aya--I can see why he wanted to stay with you, 
Yuki."

***

"Because I was crying like a child," Yuki smiled to hide how dim his 
eyes had gone.  The scars about his lids trickled into those on either 
streak of his lashes, joined into tiny streaks faintly paler than the 
rest of his skin.

He sighed, and hoped Furii wouldn't pay too much attention to them.  
"I can't help myself sometimes- it bothers me, what they do.  It 
might make me a bigot, it might make me foolish because part of me 
pities them, but I can put it out of my mind.  Yet I accept them; I 
respect them.  It's a strange mix."

Speaking of which, another question, this one somewhat indelicate, 
snatched at his considerations.  It took him a moment to find just the 
right words in the second of his languages.  He wanted to ask it so 
badly: some vessel in him, some fiber near his heart, only slightly 
familiar to him pained him.  Best to change the subject.

"I don't mind Schuldich- he could be much worse.  But about the girl;  
are all telepathic children so spooky?"

***

"I'm not sure. Saffie's the first child telepath I've met. Of 
course, I wonder if her oddness stems not from her power, but 
from the fact she is Schuldich's sister," said Furii. "I think he's 
stranger than she is.  Aya certainly appeared to be angrier over 
seeing him than he did seeing that little girl. I wonder..." 

Furii paused then, for he noticed a thin tear trickle down from the 
corner of Yuki's eye. He caught it before it could melt into his 
hair, rubbing it into nothingness between his forefinger and thumb. 

"Yuki? Are your eyes bothering you?" 

***

"Annou..."

They were and they weren't.  As gauzy as his sight had slipped, 
something in the salt of his tears didn't feel as though it was born 
only of his phantom pains.  And there were more tears.  At Furii's 
words they left him and cool little rivlets like dew falling from the 
petals of a flower stirred from him.  Yuki didn't try to blot them 
away.  He just lay very still and let them fall.

They were already too obvious as was.

"...yes.  They've felt strange all morning.  It's nothing.  It should 
stop soon.  Just the weather I think."

Even if there was nothing about their London afternoon much different 
from any other. 

*** 

"Ah, yeah." 

Furii's disbelief was plain in his tone, and Yuki, faintly blushing, 
closed his eyes and turned his head away. Still, the tears flowed 
from his lids, streaking over the bridge of his nose to paint dots of 
darker brown on the dirt-colored blanket they lay upon. He didn't 
move, not even when Furii's shadow covered him. 

When Furii's arm wrapped protectively around his waist, and the older 
boy's voice tickled ear, though, he jumped. 

"Don't cry, Yuki," he whispered, daring to gently kiss the end of one 
thin scar at the corner of his blinking eye. 

***

Yuki's whole body thumbed with the timbre of his pulse; his bangs 
quivered and his ears pinked.  He wondered if Furii could hear his 
heartbeat, hoped dearly he couldn't, and still for all the troubles in 
his mind and aching eyes, he lay languid and serene in the other boy's 
embrace.  Tears and all, though they slowed somewhat.

After awhile, he took Furii's hand beneath his own and tugged it 
upwards, closer to the faint outline of his ribs.  His shirt popped 
from the rim of his jeans, but Yuki didn't seem to notice.  

And didn't say anything besides, "I'm sorry."

***

Satisfied now that Yuki's tears had ceased, Furii allowed himself to 
relax, his form melting against that of Yuki's. He could feel the 
hard, curving slats of his ribs beneath the folds of his shirt. 
Yuki's thumb drifted side-to-side over the back of Furii's hand, 
seemingly of its own accord; his eyes still looked foggy and vague, 
more as if he were sunk into thought instead of suffering from any 
physical pain. 

Behind him, Furii settled himself on the blanket, his arm still 
draped around Yuki's body. His nape had been bared by his squirming, 
the collar drooping away from his neck. Furii leaned in to brush his 
lips casually over Yuki's exposed skin; it was cool to the touch and 
smelled faintly of whatever soap he'd used--something lemony by the 
scent of his skin.  

"If something's bothering you, you can tell me if you wish."  

***

"No," Yuki answered, his words small and silken, but firm somehow.  
"I'm just tired."

But he needed to say something else now, something more than 
'nevermind', something not, 'Did you just kiss me?' even though he was 
so sure he didn't know that he had felt him brush the curve of his neck.

For now he sighed, and he wriggled a little more.  The grass beside 
them caught against the edges of the blanket as it rumbled with his 
movement and he quite unabashedly tucked his head under Furii's chin.  
There was just the proximity this way, just the feel of his chest 
brushing Yuki's back.  No more phantom kisses.  And no more worries.  

"I miss things, sometimes.  I miss what my face used to feel like 
without glasses.  I miss Aya telling me to be careful and Alison taking 
me to bed with her.  I feel like I'm a hundred years old..."

***

"Maybe Aya doesn't tell you to be careful anymore because you've 
grown so much. That is, you are older. Perhaps he doesn't want you 
to feel like he doesn't have any faith in you and your abilities. As 
for Alison, I can see why you would miss that. The nights can be so 
bitter; sometimes...sometimes one just wants to be held. It's sad 
when there's no one around who will do it." 

Rubbing his chin over Yuki's dark hair, Furii fell silent for a 
moment. 

"Those nights you get lonely, you can come to me, you know.  I have 
trouble sleeping most nights anyway.  You can come, and we will talk.  
Maybe you can teach me how to play shougi, if nothing else." 


***

Yuki murmured, almost to himself, "I can do that."  Furii, if he'd 
heard him, could make what he wanted of those words, and let his own 
thoughts play with their bittersweet sentiments as they liked.

He could, but there was no mandate to forget, no will to break the 
wings of the fluttering sorrow he half cherished and so seldom uttered.

If he had before.

Yuki didn't honestly remember, but it would take so much of what there 
was of him to do any of those things. He suddenly knew, plain and 
simply, that his companion understood what he'd said.  

"I can teach you, but after you get to be rather good at it, you'll owe 
me and hour of help with my Latin for every game you lose."

***

"Hmm...you're on. And in return, when you lose, you will have to do
my laundry. Every time."

At that, Yuki twisted in Furii's embrace, and gave him a darkish
look. Furii in turn, only shrugged one shoulder.

"I hate to do laundry. I'd rather spend my time reading or poring over 
my cards. Orlistening to Aya and Kuroe argue. Anything's more 
entertaining than sorting clothes."

***

"While I didn't see how watching those two go at it could possibly be 
entertaining until this morning..." Yuki sighed, and what there was put 
off about his still misty gaze faded almost at once, "...Furii, I accept.  
But there is one more thing I must ask you."

He felt his companion's puzzlement more than saw it- perhaps some focus 
had returned to him, but it was the tiny twang just underneath Furii's 
skin that gave him away.  Nothing of his face changed, nothing of his 
posture.  He simply felt different.

"Let me walk home with my hand on your shoulder.  I don't want to 
wander into the wrong shop."

***

Whether Yuki wanted to take back his words once they reached the 
flower shop, Furii certainly had no way to know. He only knew he 
wanted to turn back time another thirty minutes, and go back to 
having Yuki in his arms while the birds serenaded them from the 
treetops. Not that he wasn't silently amused to find the shop in 
an uproar when they walked in. The closed sign swung between the 
lowered blinds and the glass, Furii only noticed it as he opened 
the door for Yuki. When he entered the shop, he understood the 
reason behind the shop's unexpectedclosing:  Schuldich and Kuroe, 
both blissfully nude and streaked interestingly with sauce, were 
standingby the stairs.   

"At the middle of lunch time, our busiest hour of the day, and you 
disappear with your WHORE to," Aya's voice dropped to an angry hiss, 
"fuck!"  

"Well," Kuroe drawled, swiping a fingerful of sauce from Schuldich's 
thigh, "at least we did nothing more harmful than risk 
permanently staining my sheets. With syrup." And he pointedly 
glanced down at the strip of gauze that peeked out from beneath Ken's 
sleeve. 

"What's that mean?" growled Aya, eyes narrowing. 

Kuroe smirked.  "Are you thick-headed as well as clumsy, samurai?" 

"You will clean up the mess you made."  

"Maybe," allowed Kuroe blandly, though his gaze smoldered as dangerously 
as Aya's own.  For a moment, Furii wondered if their tempers might 
escalate their confrontation onto a physicalplane.  That is, he did 
until the redhead spotted his two slacking co-workers.  

"Where have you two been?" he grumbled, addressing Furii moreso than 
Yuki, though he regarded the younger boy with unconcealed, frowning 
worry.  

"Lunch," Furii said simply. 

***

Yuki nodded in agreement but said nothing on his own behalf or his 
friend's.  He was, in fact, far too busy at the moment trying to keep 
from swallowing hard. Maybe his eyesight was poor and still swimming 
with random puffs of smoke, but he wasn't so blind as to miss the way 
Aya's gaze had softened when it lit upon him.

And nothing made Aya madder than Kuroe's antics.

/B-but what did I *do*...? No I mustn't think such childish things, 
especially not in the presence of.../

The sidelong, lip-nibbling look Saffie gave him as she stuffed the end 
of Ken's bandage back up the tie-dye sleeve of his shirt lead him to 
suspect it was already somewhat too late.  Ken pulled said tell-tale 
gauze back out into plain sight and did his best to side-step the 
little girl without being too obvious. 

Say, as obvious as Yuki's blush as he turned away and pretended to 
watch Furii explain them out of their predicament.  Naturally, Furii 
said nothing further.  Yuki just hoped everyone who wasn't currently 
snacking on his inner tension would assume the color came from his 
being confronted with their resident nudists still dripping fudge and 
butterscotch in the middle of the floor.  

Personally, Yuki found dessert toppings decidedly UN-erotic, but no one 
needed to... oops.  Schuldich took a moment to lick a stray blob of 
chocolate from Kuroe's left nipple.

"Stop that! Oh, GOD! Stop that!" fussed Ken.  Saffie, finding him 
properly distracted, took a bit of tape from the dispenser on the edge 
of Michelle's counter and stuck the stray edge of his bandage to an 
unoccupied glass vase.  

"It's that, or it goes on the floor," the elder telepath asserted.  He 
was about to bend and slurp at the drippy tip of Kuroe's penis but just 
missed the little golden curlicue that splattered in the middle of the 
tile.   

Ken wailed.  "Shit! I am SO not cleaning that up! It'll contaminate the 
mop!"

"Oh they've already 'contaminated' the whole living room. What's the 
big deal?" asked Saffie, and presumably Clover too, who had made a 
somewhat dog-like noise at the time her mistress spoke.  "Anyway, why 
are Michelle and I in trouble?"

Ken spat.  "I can't believe you even need to ASK THAT!"

"Well, I do.  Just because I can taste your spooty thoughts doesn't 
mean they make sense!"

"He's in his effing DOMINATRIX costume!"

Michelle indeed was thusly dressed.  He knocked his knees together, 
tried to look modest, and went back to trimming his tea rose.

"But you can't SEE anything!"

"Do you know how many tracts that nun threw at me when she saw him?"

"Fifteen, so? And why am *I* in trouble?"

"You have 'Collateral' written on your head in my good teal magic 
marker!"

When Ken raised his hand to point, the vase Saffie had affixed to his 
bandage went flying.

***

Kuroe applauded its flight, Ken cried out in dismay, and Aya clapped 
a hand over his eyes, not wanting to witness the inevitable 
destruction of yet another vase.  When he heard Ken gasp in surprise, 
however, Aya promptly lowered his hand. 

The vase had sailed through the air in a wobbly, half-hearted arc, 
but it hadn't collided with anything. Instead, it had halted in mid-air 
just as it began its descent. Gingerly, it floated down and came to rest 
on the floor between the shop's entrance and the group--half of whom had 
watched the vase's antics with a mixture of wariness and wonder. The 
rest...well, they seemed rather nonchalant. 

Not so Saffie, though, when beside the vase did materialize a handsome 
Japanese boy in his late teens--one whom both Aya and Ken had surely 
met before.  Nagi had changed somewhat since they'd seen him last, 
though.  His hair had grown a bit more, his bangs so long now he 
could sweep their curling ends behind his ears; he had pinned his 
hair into place with a pair of black shades, revealing the single 
diamond stud that winked from his left lobe.  He wore faded grey 
jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan, "Nihonjin ni 
naritai."  From a thin link chain dangled a dainty gold origami crane 
pendant, and on his feet he wore a pair of brand new black hi-tops 
with rainbow laces.  Both wrists bore watches: the left adorned with 
a silver-tone, stretchy band watch (for London time) that he'd bought 
in a drug store on the way; and on the right, rested a black leather 
one with a wistful, glaive-toting Sailor Saturn on the face (for 
Tokyo time). 

And before he could even clearly take in the sight of his beloved, 
Saffie had rushed forward to wrap her arms around his neck. With 
something of a blush, he gave her a hasty hug.  

"Hello," he said quietly. "Am I late?" 

"Late?" inquired Aya grimly. "For what?  There's no way he's staying here, 
too." 

"Saffie is here," Nagi replied. "Where she goes, I follow. And 
once more, it seems she's led me to an interesting place." 

Behind Aya's back, Kuroe executed an elegant bow.  He knew a 
compliment when he heard one.

***

A bow which Nagi returned once his little lover released him.  "I 
thought I tasted you," Saffie purred.  

She looked almost dazed- at least Yuki thought so, for he knew no other 
words in English for her strange, glowing guise and the obliviousness 
there blooming.  It made him as unconvertible as her brother's kisses had.  
He shuffled a little closer to Aya- surely the eldest Weiss would know 
best how to handle these strange people.  So THIS was the fabled 
fiance?  Aside from his uncanny ability to prevent Ken-related 
accidents, he seemed so much like an AVERAGE Japanese teenager it was 
downright disturbing.

Although, rather unlike a proper Japanese teenager, who would have been 
MUCH more appalled at being glomped in public, his blush faded, and he 
bent to kiss the blond silk of Saffie's hair. She said to him once 
their eyes met, "You left Bradley all alone with Farfie for me?" 

Schuldich snorted contemptuously and turned away from more or less 
everyone, though frankly no one besides Kuroe seemed to care much. 
Perhaps Ken did, but he was too busy sniggering over the word "Farfie". 

"You're heartless."

Michelle, who happened to be closest to the melting pair, couldn't help 
but notice the bodice of Saffie's dress grew somewhat tighter as she 
uttered the word 'heartless'.  In fact, it began to look as if she had 
let two glass beads slip down the front.  Aa, no WONDER she wasn't 
interested in him.

Well, not romantically at least.  She shortly seized him by the arm and 
presented him to her boyfriend the way a game show hostess displays the 
most decadent of all the prizes.

"Nagi, this is Michelle.  He's my friend.  I'm staying in his room 
because I'm collateral."  Here she pointed to her forehead, but only 
for a moment before moving on.  "This is Furii- he doesn't like 
Clover." Said pig looked substantially more affronted than her mistress 
at that remark. "And Yuki, he's Japanese too.  You already know Aya, 
and Ken-kun."

"Don't call me -kun, you little brat!"

"And the sweetie here is uncle Chrestien."

***

Coolly, Nagi took in the sight of Kuroe's naked form, broadcasting 
his drifting approval for Saffie and Schuldich to nibble upon. Saffie 
beamed fondly at her brother's old lover, and Schuldich, with a 
wicked smile, slid his arms around Kuroe's waist, and groped his ass 
for the benefit of all. Not that all were appreciative, however--
though neither the Schwartz twosome, their common link, or Kuroe 
really cared about Aya's disapproving grimace, or the funny green 
tinge Ken's face now held. 

"Why are you collateral?" Nagi suddenly asked of his sweetheart. 

Saffie, who was now snuggled up against Nagi's side, made a vague 
gesture in Michelle's direction, relating her story down the link 
they shared. The more she revealed, the more frigid became Nagi's regard; 
but Saffie seemed not to notice. 

It all happened in an instant. The moment Nagi turned his full 
attention upon Michelle, the diminutive blond rose a foot from the 
floor, caught in the grip of the telepath's power. All Michelle gave 
was a frightened squeak, unable to move otherwise. When Furii, out 
of concern for the one teammate he'd had the longest, he collided 
with the psychic shield Nagi had conjured around himself, Saffie, and 
Michelle. Long, thin, bleeding lines abruptly rose over the bridge of 
his nose, his arms--over every bit of his flesh that had met Nagi's 
shield, as if he'd fallen into a sheet of glass.

"Stay out of it," he mildly advised. 

At Aya's side, Yuki murmured in surprise, taking an uncertain step 
towards where Furii still lingered, now unfurling from the crouch 
he'd fallen into. Before Yuki could meet with the same harm as had 
befallen their injured teammate, Aya caught him by the arm, and 
pulled him close, positioning himself between Yuki and Nagi. 

"Put Michelle down," he ordered. 

Nagi didn't spare Aya a glance. "I will when I am ready." 

"No, now."  

"Mamoru cares for you," Nagi added, meeting Aya's simmering violet 
eyes now, "because of his feelings, I saved your life once. Don't 
make me do anything now that would break his heart if he were to 
learn of it." 

His words drew the redhead up short. Though Aya was plainly displeased
over Nagi's attack upon Michelle, he didn't make any more moves 
towards him. 

"Good," Nagi said, turning back to Michelle. "I've killed men for 
Saffie," he murmured without the slightest hint of emotion. "I could 
make it so you would beg me to kill you, just to escape the pain I can 
cause. I can draw your suffering out, or I could make it come upon you 
all at once." 

The roses in Michelle's cheeks promptly faded--his face now so pale 
and drawn that it seemed as if he might faint, though to his credit, 
he didn't. 

"To what purpose did you choose to keep her as collateral? Were you 
thinking of using my beloved as if she were your own personal 
whore?"

***

Michelle's answer to this was so mangled by his fright- or rather the 
suddenness of his fright (he was perfectly alright with having his life 
threatened, just not first thing in the afternoon) -that most of the 
little group gathered there in the flower shop presumed him to be 
speaking in tongues at first.  Yuki's considerations went so far as to 
fear his teammate in the midst of a grand mal seizure.  He was just 
pondering switching back to Japanese in order to ask their latest 
uninvited guest to please put the poor boy down since he was in no 
condition to use anyone as a whore, personal or otherwise, when the 
words began to resolve themselves.  So sudden was the meaning, Yuki 
nearly fell forward from his crouch into Aya's leg, and the mere 
thought of THAT made him go rigid as a displeased alley cat. 

At any rate, Michelle was chanting with what little of his breath he 
was still legally entitled to, "Idon'tlikegirlsIdon'tlikegirls
Idon'tlikegirlsIdon'tlikegirlsIdon'tlike girls. I don't like girls. I 
don't like girls..."

Ken broke off examining Furii's cuts long enough to remark, "Pfft.  As 
if likin' girls and likin' boys were mutually exclusive."

"I don't think that's what he's implying," Yuki stated.  It was easier 
to mumble that than be snide and inquire as to why Ken hadn't flung 
himself into the barrier with an orgasmic moan.  The boy simply nudged 
him enough in the side of his shoe to put his precarious squat in 
danger.

Not that any of this, or Ken's subsequent, "OW! MY ASS!" after he fell, 
interested Saffie in the least.  Then again, if Michelle hadn't known 
better, if he hadn't felt her like cotton candy gauze over his mind, he 
would have sworn by the look on her face that she didn't give one whit 
about HIS ass.  Rather, she came to stand before her beloved, perched 
on her toes like Alice looking over Humpty-Dumpty.

"Nagi," she said softly, without the vaguest plaint or nag, "please 
don't kill Michelle.  I'm not done playing with him."

Nagi regarded her with a sort of pissed-off inquisitiveness.  It was 
just long enough for Schuldich to butt in.  Which he did with a 
flourish that consisted mainly of a blow at his gooey bangs and a 
foppish wave of his hand.

"Oh, C'mon.  You don't wanna make a mess, do you?  And besides, there's 
a SIMPLE solution to all of this.  I gave Saf to Michelle because I'm 
borrowing uncle Chrestien here, who happened to be fucking the 
aforementioned Michelle."

Michelle, unable to go any whiter, turned more of a robin's egg blue.  
The telepath shrugged and swung his hips, making the best of his 
pseudo-legalistic airs.

"So how's this? You can have Michelle as collateral for my safe return, 
which would, after all, result in you getting Saf back."

***

It was a tempting offer (in that he and Saffie would be together), and 
yet, Nagi hesitated before giving his answer. Out of all the group 
who surrounded the trio, Michelle was the one who was the most 
relieved when he did, even though he later found a huge bruise on one 
hip; Nagi had released his hold on him so suddenly, Michelle had 
stumbled when he landed on the floor and fell flat on his ass. 

"All right," said Nagi quietly. "I won't kill him. But only because 
Saffie asked me not to." 

Cuddling his arm, Saffie beamed at him, drawing another blush out of the 
boy.  With Furii's help, Michelle shakily got to his feet. 

"You didn't have to be so brutal," said Furii. 

"I didn't tell you to play the hero," replied Nagi. "I didn't tell 
him to make my future wife into an unwilling plaything, just because her 
brother wants to sleep around. Be glad. It could have been much worse." 

Behind him, Schuldich clucked his tongue in mock disapproval, and 
Kuroe countered with a low chuckle. 

"Held back, did you?" Furii asked wryly, swiping at a drop of blood 
on the end of his nose. 

Nagi drew one shoulder up in a shrug, then forgot about him altogether; 
Saffie was far more interesting.  

That is, to him, but not to her brother and uncle.  For Kuroe and 
Schuldich were now arm and arm on the steps, lost in each other and the 
bedroom game they'd just contrived mind-to-mind. 

"Where are you going?" Aya inquired, with only the tiniest shudder 
when Yuki's hand closed uncertainly around his elbow. 

The couple paused, both turning to look at Aya over their shoulders 
as if he'd lost his mind. "Where does it look like we're going, 
Aya?" asked Kuroe. 

"The day isn't over yet."

"Mine is," said Kuroe. "I was up late last night. I imagine I'll be 
up late again tonight.  I need my sleep to stay on top form." 

"Then I suppose you'll be sleeping for the rest of the week." 

"Could be, Aya.  After all, my bed doesn't feel so empty, now." 

Ken, who was quietly fussing over Michelle, suddenly looked up at 
them, swearing none-too-softly, and Aya glanced over at him before 
rendering verdict upon their suave teammate. 

"You're heartless."

Kuroe shrugged. "No one died." 

"You might act like you care," said Furii, who was now dabbing 
away the blood from a shallow cut on his cheek with an antiseptic 
soaked swab Ken had given him.  

"I might have...once."  

Kuroe turned then to Schuldich, pulling him close for a kiss before 
urging him up the stairs with whispered, German-flavored promises. In 
their wake, Aya resignedly led Yuki over to the table, where both 
claimed a seat--and Aya concealed his nagging worries for Yuki by 
turning his attention back to the peony arrangement he'd previously 
abandoned. 

It seemed as if Michelle had wilted a little, despite the fact that 
the rest of his teammates had stayed behind, supporting him in their 
individual ways.  Even Nagi felt something of pity for him, which he 
only privately shared with Saffie.  Maybe Michelle wasn't such a 
monster--Saffie did seem to like him.  Perhaps, he himself *had* 
been too brutish, attacking him as he had done. 

Perhaps, Nagi thought, he might be able to make it up to him--if only 
so he could have a quiet vacation. 

The chain Nagi wore suddenly rose and floated away from his neck, its 
clasp having been unfastened with ghostly fingers. The ends 
undulated as if the chain glided through water, even when it had come 
to a halt directly in front of the startled Michelle. The tiny crane 
wobbled as if it yearned to stretch its golden wings in flight. 

"For luck," said Nagi simply.

***

Michelle, rather than answering outright, turned into the very image of 
trepidation, assuming of course that trepidation, when manifesting in a 
human form, was want to rub its bottom and go about clad as a 
professional mistress.  He eyed the dancing little crane with his lips 
snuggly pinched between his teeth, and said nothing to the bird, which 
swooped lazily around his head.  His wary glare followed it everywhere 
it chose to go.

But the crane was so *shiny* and so *cute*.  He'd never seen a golden 
origami pendant before- just silver, and the finest washi paper.  Never 
gold.  Could he really expected less from a family he'd found so 
inclined to love jewels?

And if Saffie didn't fear Nagi...

Speaking of which, she and her fiance failed to appear the least bit 
offended by his unwillingness to catch the necklace for his own- they 
were watching him the way very small children watch an unfamiliar 
creature scampering about their yard: rather amused, rather shot with 
wonder, too intent to smile outright.  They both seemed five years 
younger than they really were.

Michelle nodded, and with one fluid motion plucked the crane from the 
ephemeral ribbons that held it.  As the chain latched around his neck, 
something very strange happened, not that he'd expected less from the 
pendant.  He didn't just SEE their uninvited guests, but felt them now, 
tasted them like radio static on the back of his tongue.  Or something 
like that.  Just Saffie and Nagi.

He'd been invited into their private life of thoughts.  

And if THAT didn't deserve thanks.

Michelle excused himself with a wave of his hands, flew up the gummy 
stairs, and returned with a stuffed animal.  At least, it was probably 
and animal.  It looked somewhat like a cartoon fish, but had iridescent 
wings sprouting from its long seafom fur and a friendly, doll-like 
face.  He grinned and held it out to Nagi.

(OOC: That's an actual toy ^_^.  [The one on the right is Michelle's]

http://home.comcast.net/~toypalace3/wonderwhimsblue.jpg)

***

Nagi found his gesture charming, and he took it with 
customary grace, offering the slightest of smiles in return. 

"Thank you," he said softly, giving the angel fish (for that was what 
he'd judged it to be) a pinch upon its puffed, shining wings. 
Threading her arm through Nagi's, Saffie extended a hand to Michelle.  
The golden-haired pair fell together with laughter, as if some joke 
had been played. Nagi looked up to find their bright eyes were turned 
upon him, and he felt his face grow warm. Tucking the fish in the 
crook of one arm, he turned to summon his luggage. Easily, the bag 
rose from the floor, and swooped over to the stairs, where it hovered 
by the banister, awaiting his approach. 

"Why don't you two show me to our room?"

***

But the question in Michelle's heart was all but fluttering over his 
head and singing crass fifteenth century drinking songs at the sound of 
those words.  For being a telepath, Saffie was certainly doing a good 
job of over-looking it and had, with Clover slung over her shoulder, 
already begun to bound up the saucy stairs just as quickly as she could 
being torn between speed and keeping her boots chocolate-sauce-free.  
Her fiance followed several stairs behind, a little less hopscotch in 
his steps and a little more attention to the lace and silk clad bottom 
bouncing up and down so close to his gaze.

Perhaps it was only their respective preoccupations which kept them 
from noticing Michelle in this.  Either way, one or the other shortly 
realized he wasn't leading them, and so paused a moment in their 
ascent.

"Ah... I only have a queen sized bed. Just so you know..."

"But we're all so skinny!" Saffie insisted.  "We'll all fit!"

"That's not what I..." But then again, he had to admit she was probably 
right.  And that he hadn't expected less.  And that this would neither 
be the first nor the last time he let someone who had just tried to 
kill him into his bedchambers for less than chaste reasons.  "Hmm, you 
know, I think you're right. But I'll go get some extra pillows from the 
linen closet just in case!"

With that, all three children and the pig cheered and tore up the 
stairs.

***

Schuldich and Kuroe were shortly obliged to duck to one side of the 
landing or be trampled to death.  Perhaps it hadn't been the BEST 
judgment in the world to stop and have a few moments of sticky making 
out while scarcely free of the view of their housemates, but then 
again, that had been the point.  Either way, after the first giggled, 
"Outta the way!" they flung themselves against the closest wall and be-
butterscotched the plaster.  Saffie waved to them, Clover cooed, Nagi 
canted the Kuroe print on the wall an assessing gaze, Nagi's bags were 
indifferent, and Michelle burst out laughing.

"Aa, the brats are being brats, Aya has a stick up his ass, and we're 
reveling in our own vanity.  All's right with the world," sighed 
Schuldich as he took a moment to stretch.

***

"For now," said Kuroe, who turned from the butterscotched wall, and 
caught his lover's raised limbs at the elbows. Sliding his hands 
over Schuldich's slick forearms, Kuroe pinned his wrists to the wall 
above his tousled red head, and pressed his naked body against him. 

"Here's hoping it stays this wonderful for awhile." 

Schuldich had a glimpse of what tenderness he held for him before 
Kuroe closed his eyes, drawing forward for a kiss. The play of his 
mouth was light, teasing, but not so the shifting of his body. Kuroe 
slid against him with the intent of stirring his lust all over 
again. 

"I can't..." he breathed between kisses, "keep my hands off you." 

And with that, he let his hands slip slowly down Schuldich's arms, 
stroking his sides as he wrapped them around his waist, where they 
finally came to rest again; his sticky palms cupped the firm globes 
of Schuldich's ass. 

"But that's the whole point, isn't it? Mein liebe."

***

"If things have to have a point- yes," said Schuldich, but he had been 
in a deconstructive mood all morning, and so Kuroe was neither offended 
nor taken by his beatnik calm.  They passed the next few moments as if 
he had said nothing, expressed nothing but the heat on his lips which 
turned the chocolate traces there sticky and sweet.

Not that his embrace, for he mirrored the fold of Kuroe's arms, was 
anything less.  Their skin pressed so tight that syrup poured from them 
as if squeezed from their blood.  No, he didn't mind holding him, 
feeling up both his skin and the ghosts of how it had once seemed under 
his touch.  He was thinner, he had to be, not that Schuldich would have 
minded either way...

When their mouths finally untangled, he told his once-again lover.  "I 
think the mess we've made of the landing pretty much rules points out, 
and anyway, don't you have a painting to finish?"

Vanity always won, meanings or no meanings. 

***  

Meanwhile, Ken was indulging himself in an activity he had only 
recently learned to love: flipping out regarding the state of 
Kryptonbrand Side B's dwelling.

With Furii's leaky wounds now adequately secured, he scurried out of 
the flower shop and into his lair, formerly known as the broom closet.  
He came back clad as a Japanese cleaning woman- apron jacket, headscarf 
and gloves -bearing every bottle of cleaner he could possibly hold.  He 
dumped them all on the floor, and made a second trip after the hand-
held steam vac, mop and bucket.  It was a curious fusion of soaps he 
used with what little water said bucket would hold after he'd added 
them all.  The floor where Kuroe and his guest had been standing 
shortly began to resemble an in-ground tub prepared for a bubble-bath 
so covered with suds was it.

"Umm... Ken...?" Yuki began.  "I think you've..."

"NO ONE GETS JIZZ ON MY FLOOR AND LIVES!"

Apparently, no one got blood on it either, for Ken quite blithely 
proceeded to mop up not only Furii's, but most of the polish on Furii's 
shoes.

"Hypocrite," mumbled the boy, but no more, as there was a Dahlia 
presently in need of his attention.     

***

"Hey," grumbed Furii after his furiously mopping co-worker. "Don't 
mess up my best pair of boots." 

But Ken only fixed him with a glare, as if it were his fault for 
getting in Nagi's way in the first place, and continued to swish the 
soapy strands over the lino.  Furii stamped the suds that clung to 
the toes of his boots out of existence, and made straight for the 
cart of cacti, sending a pair of squirt bottles spinning out of Ken's 
reach in the process. 

The mop's swishing ceased, but Furii didn't bother to look around as 
he carefully prodded the soil around a baby prickly pear.  Aya, 
however, saw that as his chance to make a move.  Deftly, he plucked 
the kerchief off his lover's head before he had a moment to react; 
with the mop, he wasn't so lucky, for Ken wouldn't release it. 

"Come on," Aya said, tugging insistently at the handle. "Take off 
those housewife coverups and let's get out of here for awhile. It's 
not your mess, anyway." 

***
 
It was a room like no other that Nagi had ever seen: mint green with 
peach accents, guarded by a dozen or more brightly colored unicorns 
crowded together in a net the shade of spring ivy, their black button 
eyes shining down at him. Saffie found them far more delightful than 
did he, for she hopped onto the bed upon re-entering the small space, 
and took one dark green creature from the herd. Giggling softly, 
Saffie touched its velvety nose to Nagi's cheek, miming a kiss, before 
she gracefully folded herself into a kneel upon the fluffy 
comforter. 

Nagi gave her a twinkling of smile before casting a glance at his 
bags, which had made their unobstructed way to the closet. 

"That's done," he sighed, settling himself onto the end of the bed. 
The springs creaked a little under his weight; when Saffie flopped 
herself down on the mattress alongside, wanting to rest her head on 
his thigh, they groaned. Nagi instantly sank his fingertips into his 
sweetheart's pale, flowing hair. 

"See? We should fit here just fine," Nagi said softly, offering 
another smile to Michelle. "Unicorns and all." "

***

"Kweeweewee!" agreed Clover.  

Michelle was promptly obliged to coax her out of his hamper.  Who knew 
pigs could jump as high as cats?  Albeit with much more scrambling and 
fussing.  "You know, I think you're right.  But does 'and all' 
include...?"  He deposited the wily creature back into her towely nest, 
and relieved her of the sock which had decided it liked her ear.

Saffie winked at her pet and said, "Oh no, Clover doesn't like people 
beds.  See, at home I have flamingo pink sheets, and Clover is VERY 
afraid of flamingos.  By association, she believes all beds are 
flamingos." 

Michelle hadn't even known that pigs SAW in color.  That, and it seemed 
little odd that a pig and a flamingo would ever had had occasion to 
meet.  Nonetheless, Nagi nodded so solemnly at his lover's words he had 
no choice but to accept in some small way that the unlikely meeting of 
bird and barnyard dweller had indeed occurred.  

No, he didn't want to know how.  In the mean time, the unicorn in 
Saffie's hands wafted into the center of the room and there began to 
dance a chacha with the angelfish. 

"Well, I think that's enough pillows then." He sat down, and with the 
best view of the frolicking plushies he could possibly get, a mound of 
pillows higher than the edge of his mattress underneath him.  "Unless 
there are more of you.  Which is fine since I can help myself to any of 
the spare furniture whenever I want."

***

"We were five, but now we are four," said Nagi. "Our madman found 
more appealing pastures to defile and left us, never to be seen again 
save for the occasional appearance inside Crawford's mind. Crawford--
that's Schuldich's lover and my father figure, but he doesn't play 
either role very well.  As you may have guessed, since we are both 
here without him."

With just a tendril of mentally directed power, the remaining 
unicorns wriggled out of their nest and pranced towards the mid-air 
ballroom, their floppy legs flexing as if their velvet hooves found 
the invisible path solid. They flew in a ring around the dancing 
pair, tossing their silk ribbon manes and flicking their tails in a 
show of joy. Michelle's wonder at the sight shone clearly in his 
face, and Nagi lowered his eyes modestly to the flaxen strands of his 
Saffie's hair which now fanned over his thighs, coaxed there by his 
wandering fingers. 

"Not that Crawford won't come after him, for he will. He always 
does. He's that smitten with him, and Schuldich feels the same way 
about him. Crawford will offer a few apologies, make him fantasic 
promises, and they'll fall into each other's arms, and fly away on 
the wind...so to speak."

A bright blue unicorn broke from the carousel Nagi had fashioned and 
galloped over to Michelle, where it hung within easy reach before 
him.  As if in sorrow, it bowed its head.  

"But what will you do, Michelle, once we are gone, and Kuroe's bed 
is empty?"

***

"Welllllllllllll," Michelle told the unicorn as if imparting a girlish 
secret to a dear and very imaginary friend, "I guess for starters I'd 
have to put all these pillows back where I found them."  But what was 
to come after that he never did get around to saying- he felt very much 
on the spot, which is never a good thing for the whimsical or impetuous 
to feel.  Michelle happened to be both, and so made the best of them.  
"I get the feeling that won't be for awhile though, so why worry?"

"Now THAT'S what I shoulda said to Bradley when I marched out the 
door,"  Saffie asserted to herself.  The somber unicorn raised its hoof 
to its chin, pondered a moment, and nodded before it resumed moping.

"Bradley?"

"Crawford."

"Oh..."

"Well, he prefers Crawford, so I have to call him Bradley."

Clover apparently called him "nweehk" for that was what she chose to 
add to the conversation.  Michelle began to stroke her ears, but then 
jumped at seemingly nothing.  "You're not on good terms with..."

"Him? Oh, he doesn't mind what we do.  Just what my brother does.  He 
seems to think that we can take care of ourselves, while Schu-baby 
can't."

There was not a unicorn in the room at this point who did not stop long 
enough to shake its head.  The dance changed to a courtly Renaissance 
affair which Michelle was obliged to join in.  Saffie would have as 
well had she not then realized her boots were still on.  "Ne, atashi no 
Datenshi, these have too many buckles.  Give me a hand."  She kicked 
her feet in the air then like a much younger child might have.

***

Like a doting lover, Nagi complied; the buckles came undone one by one, 
gradually revealing the lines of her slender legs for his unspoken 
appreciation. 

"You mean like that?" 

Saffie reached up to deal a rough pinch to his cheek, but he caught 
her hand before she could touch him. At once, all the remaining 
buckles unfastened, and her boots wriggled off. Gently, he set them 
down upon the floor beside the bedroom door. 

"Well, why didn't you just say you were in a hurry, Saffie?" And he 
drew her fingers to his lips for a kiss.

***

"Because Datenshi shouldn't hurry," she said, simply as could be.  
Through all her lover's ministrations, the unicorns had not once 
faltered, nor Michelle, who had learned every step of their dance 
already and joined in, a bottle of cologne held to his brow for he had 
no horn otherwise.  

He WAS looking though when Saffie kissed Nagi back.  No, there wasn't 
any tongue involved, but when you kissed like THAT, when you nuzzled 
and niggled and caressed and brushed noses through it all, why bother? 
With tongue?  If Schuldich and Kuroe's kiss at breakfast had been a 
ten, this was at least a nine.  He was tempted to applaud it, but that 
was about the time the little girl made to join him.

And they both realized something interesting, there in the faerie 
circle of plush bodies, bare toes to bare toes.

Sans boots, Saffie was at LEAST three inches taller than him.  No, 
actually, it was closer to three and a half according to the tape 
measure Michelle tugged from his desk.  "How about that?"

And they laughed, but said nothing about it otherwise.  Somehow he 
ended up knowing she'd been called for by her brother, but not the way 
her other thoughts came, he simply knew.

So she was gone and Clover had decided to rub up against his ankles 
like a cat.

"Datenshi... datenshi... I heard Aya use that once."  He was talking to 
himself, but hoping to be over-heard.

***

"It means 'fallen angel'," said Nagi, rising from his perch on the 
bed. He crossed over to the circle, picking up his angel fish 
stuffie from the scattered herd and giving it a squeeze. "I always 
thought she meant that as something like a joke--I never thought of 
myself as an angel--but, when I gained the power to hear thoughts..." 

He gave him a wan little smile. "It embarrasses me now, knowing that 
someone thinks of me that way. Even so, I hope she never stops 
calling me that." 

A faint blush warming his cheeks, Nagi knelt on the floor at 
Michelle's feet, the angelfish nestled in his lap. "The person I 
work for used to work with Aya and Ken; he was very fond of them 
both." 

***

Michelle had to rise an eyebrow to that- there was nothing in Nagi's 
tone of voice that made it overt, but Michelle had always been rather 
suspicious of the word "fond", even if it was hard to believe anyone 
could be as "fond" of those two as they were of each other.  

/Aha! So this person doesn't know about the thing with the razors.  
Poor him./

But then again... he found himself flopping down on the floor shortly- 
partly because Clover needed petted, and partly because he had tired of 
being taller than Nagi.

"Wait, you work for someone who likes Aya and Ken? But your Fiancee's 
brother likes them but they don't like him and they work for 
Kryptonbrand and Schuldich doesn't seem to work for anyone and OH! I'M 
SO CONFUSED!"

***

"No need to be confused. Schuldich has never really worked for anyone 
save for himself. He and Crawford have always had their own agenda. As 
for his fondness for Aya and Ken, I can assure you that it has nothing 
to do with friendship. It's more like...how a child would feel for a 
favorite toy." He idly scratched Clover between her satiny ears. "It'll 
be such a pity if they should break..." 

Michelle's eyes widened in alarm. 

"But they probably won't. They've withstood him this long." Nagi gently 
chucked Clover under her chin by way of parting, then stretched out on 
his side atop two of the scattered pillows. "Anyway, my employer used 
to work with them as part of a different organization. That group 
dissolved long before Aya and Ken arrived in London."

***

Michelle, who still had nothing close to an idea as to what was going 
on, nodded and fell into strange daydreams for a moment.  Given 
Schuldich's sexual predilections, it was a simple matter to see him as 
the black ops equivalent of a prostitute, and things went downhill from 
there.  

The boy's mind swam with strange tableaux of masked government types 
sashaying and groping their way through whole ballrooms filled with 
scantily clad boys wearing ammunition for jewels.  Schuldich clad in 
cargo pants and a skimpy vest donned bunnie ears and sidled among them, 
lighting cigarettes and tasting lips before he left his business card 
behind.  His boyfriend- who in Michelle's imagination resembled Steve 
Finn post-bathtime -idled along behind him, drinking and offering 
quotes and sometimes groping himself.  Aya and Ken, in catboy costumes 
both, sat in a corner of white furniture, tantalizing the various 
Persias with their lewd chocolate bar eating abilities.

"What an interesting life you must have."

***

"And what a vivid imagination you have," said Nagi with a quiet smile. 
"But I must tell you that Crawford isn't in the habit of missing baths 
and trips to the barber..."

An image of a well-groomed Crawford clad in a crisp, navy blue Armani 
suit rose in Michelle's mind down the link between them. 

"And...I doubt Aya and Ken would willingly don cat costumes, much less 
eat chocolate in a lascivious manner in front of Persia. Especially 
given who Persia is." 

Another image, that of Omi sitting on a porch overlooking a formal 
Japanese garden, eyes closed and the wind toying with his tousled 
hair, came down the link. 

"That's my boss, but only I have seen him that way. He tends to keep 
everyone else at bay."

***

Michelle of course was unused yet to telepathic visions.  Though 
nothing of his eyes beheld the boy, he reached for him, and overlooked 
that his finger tips did not intrude upon the vision before it faded, 
left only Nagi and Clover as she snuffled his angelfish.

"Wow... I had no idea the guy Aya and Ken used to work for was close 
to OUR ages.  How'd that happen?"

But the breath Nagi took in preparation to explain convinced him well 
enough that he really didn't want to know, and so, rude or not, he 
clapped his hand over the other boy's mouth and kept their silence 
intact a moment more.  The fallen pillows called to him as well, and 
slumped back upon them, a respectable distance wavering between his 
guest and himself.  

"And Schuldich's lover is a corporate type.  I'll be damned.  I'll 
absolutely be damned..."

Though he wasn't thinking of Crawford anymore so much as he was 
mentally stripping off Omi's clothes.  Nagi didn't have to be a 
telepath to know that.  The lump in the boy's shorts (for he had pulled 
them on over his dominatrix gear and not granted his shirt the same 
favor)gave that much away.

At least until he noticed it himself and threw a pillow over his lap.  

***

As his gentle laugh revealed, Nagi wasn't embarrassed in the 
slightest. Lightly, he took the nearest tassel of the pillow between 
his fingers and began to stroke it. "Don't be uncomfortable. He's had 
the same effect on me before. In fact..." 

Another image came to Michelle, that of Omi lying fast asleep in bed, 
the sheets slung tantalizingly low over his naked hips. 

"It is my job to protect him. I thought someone had entered the house, 
and I went to check on him.  That is how I found him.  Even now when I 
am around him...Ah, it'snot important." 

A blush stole over Michelle's cheeks, and he dropped his gaze from 
Nagi's. The Japanese boy only inched a little closer, abandoning the 
tassel for a lock of Michelle's hair.

"I imagine you would look even prettier than he in such a state."

***

"Ah... thank you..." Michelle breathed.  The softness of his words 
tingled them with some unfamiliar accent.  But it was more than that, 
more than the flurry of strange and incoherent thoughts rising from him.  
Where he skin had seemed so powdery fluid, the boy went stiff as ivory 
now.  He could neither flee nor brush the fingers in his hair away.  
Not even the ray of sunlight that darted into his eyes was enough to 
stir him.  

"Bu-...er... it's not true.  I don't look... anything like Omi.  I'm 
*different*."

He tried not to think about how, about why, and focused instead on the 
best way to excuse himself to the upstairs bathroom.  Considering it 
was probably enough.

He'd managed to grin dumbly and spring halfway to the door before he 
saw it lock itself.

***

"I know you are." 

Briskly, Nagi got to his feet, but the look of apprehension in 
Michelle's eyes rooted him to the spot. Nagi only tapped one fat 
cushion out of the way with his foot, sending it spiraling across the 
floor to rest under the bed. 

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I don't have plans to injure you or 
cause you emotional hurt. On the contrary, it's my nature to 
be gentle. You can ask Saffie about that if you don't believe me."

***

"I-I..." stammered Michelle, "I believe you.  But this morning! And 
besides that we just met. I d-don't..."

He had presently clasped his hands before himself as if he meant to beg 
or pray or something in between, not to mention flattened himself 
against the door.  The hinges groaned an instant against the weight of 
his shoulder-blades and his felt the shiny leather of his costume begin 
to protest both his closeness to escape and the thrilling of his sex.

In all honestly, he'd tried to say 'I don't know you', tried to think 
it, feel it, broadcast it from his tiny frame like perfume or light but 
part of him didn't quite believe it.  Just like he hadn't believed it 
with Kuroe once.  Yuki.  Aya.  Ken.  Furii.  Anyone of their trade.

Nagi presently took him by the wrists and parted his hands before he 
could dig his nails into himself.  Oh, he was warm and he smelled so 
good, better than thoughts of the boy Persia.

"You're all a lot of kinky ninnies, but I suppose you know that."

***

"Kinky, yes," said Nagi. "I'm afraid I must take exception to the 
term 'ninnies', though. That's rather rude." 

Michelle's clear hazel eyes flashed upwards to meet Nagi's own dark 
gaze, only to flicker down to the point on his left hand where the 
older boy's lips had come to rest. Nagi sprinkled his lover's skin 
with kisses, unhurriedly sucked upon one knuckle, tickled the crevice 
between his fore and middle fingers with the tip of his tongue. 

"No," said Nagi as he ceased his exploration of Michelle's hand, "we 
don't know each other, but we could. As for this morning, I apologized, 
but...maybe words weren't enough? Perhaps you prefer action instead?" 

With that, Nagi took a step backwards, still holding Michelle's hand. 

"I was unjustly jealous and cruel this morning. Let me make it up to 
you."

***

"I ah... guess I'd like that," Michelle admitted, though he didn't have 
to, at least in Nagi's presence.  As he spoke his lips and his throat 
burned a bright rose.  The hand that clasped his own he pulled until 
they fairly stumbled into one another, but in the end stood poised, 
chest to chest like two grownup but still unfamiliar lovers.  His 
bustier crinkled, and Nagi reached up to take the swells in the leather 
between his hands as if there was skin inside them, and not just silk 
liner whispering to itself.

"I've been with two others besides Kuroe.  A girl and a boy.  None of 
them for very long, so if you want to show me anything..."

He trailed off and let his hands seep between them so his fingers 
snagged in the waistband of his shorts and pulled them away.  His thong 
beneath was shiny with the strain of his sex, though curiously dripping 
towards the back as it might have on a girl's body.

***

"I think that can be arranged," said Nagi, leaning in to kiss 
Michelle's naked shoulders. He could feel the outline of his cock 
against his own swelling member, but refrained from touching him in any 
suggestive way. His fingers traveled over the wide suede strips that 
held the corset laced tight to Michelle's slim frame, picking their way 
to the bow he'd tied as he distracted him with light kisses over his 
throat and cheeks. The knot came loose easily, and the cords slipped 
free of the grommets on their own accord. His make-believe bosom 
pattered to the floor at their feet, and Nagi peeled the leather away 
from Michelle's skin. The bones had left red stripes over his ivory 
flesh; Frowning, Nagi stroked the weals with his fingertips. 

"The marks make you look frail somehow," he said, rubbing the lines 
that stretched from his ribs to his hips. 

Michelle said nothing, and Nagi, after chancing a nudge of his exposed 
nipples with his thumbs, cradled his face between his hands, and bent 
to capture his lips in a kiss. Softly, he parted his lips, delving the 
tip of his tongue into his mouth, before stepping away. Fluidly, Nagi 
swept his T-shirt off, dropping it to the floor beside the discarded 
corset. No sooner had he stripped himself of that garment than did he 
grab Michelle's hand, holding it as he took another step backward. 

"I must tell you, I'm not one for rushing things."

***

"That's fine," said the boy, and knowing he had time enough to do so, 
he let the pink petal of his tongue wind gently over his lips until he 
had licked all his companion's flavor from them.  Nagi tasted vaguely 
of cigarettes, mostly like a sweet and fleshy fruit sticky with its own 
juices.  He couldn't quite name the brand or the berry, but he didn't 
worry- just enjoyed, and kissed him back the same sloppy way he usually 
enjoyed his lovers.  They were both wet and glistening when he had 
finished, and Nagi's fingers had wandered from the bone marks on his 
skin to the curve of his ass.

"Mnn... you know, I think I kinda like it when you take my clothes off 
with your mind.  You'd think it'd be spooky but..."

Michelle trailed off, for he had rather dreamily realized her tip toes 
were no longer companions of the ground.  It was only a scattering of 
inches between him and the foam of stuffed toys who had tired of their 
dance, but enough to keep him eye-level with Nagi.  The other boy's 
fingers snarled in his hair and Michelle felt his thong slipping away.  
The slowness of the slide let him gasp and his tip pop out over the 
edge- he was deep rose there, smooth and satiny.

***

The scant garment smoothly fell to the floor beneath Michelle's 
dangling feet, and Nagi slipped his fingers from the boy's tangled 
curls to pet the slim lines of his back, the curves of his rear. As he 
fumbled his soft thighs, Nagi kissed him, smiling against his lips at 
the next gasp Michelle gave when one hand rose to cradle his balls. 

"There's plenty I can do with my power. I could leave you suspended 
there while I tease you. Or I could even..." 

Embracing him, Nagi gave him another lingering kiss. When he at last 
released Michelle, he had managed to maneuver them both a few more 
inches off the ground, where they lay as if on a bed. 

"You don't have to worry," said Nagi as he rubbed his palm over 
Michelle's blushing cock. "I won't let you fall."

***

Michelle nodded, though as he ran one hand through Nagi's hair, the 
other seeped beneath him and drifted along the air that should not have 
held him.  His finger tips grazed the carpet, and Nagi's palm hugged 
him tight between his legs.  It wasn't too far.  If they did fall, he 
didn't think he'd mind.  If they didn't...

He took the other boy in his arms and felt himself mildly surprised 
that he let himself be pulled so close, so soon.  Nagi only kissed him 
more as he lay tangled beside him, half pillowed on his side, and half 
floating, Michelle's fingers scratching up and down along his thigh as 
his jeans seeped from him like a cocoon.  Soon enough they were 
pressing against each other, sighing each other's breath and starting 
to drip on each other's fingers.  Michelle swayed upwards against his 
lover's hand, let it slip backwards against him.  

There was no place on him where his balls seemed to be skin only- they 
were fleshy soft all the way to the juncture of his legs, though in the 
back, nestled against his perineum there was a tiny patch of slick skin 
marked by a slit.

When Nagi stuck his ring finger in it, he yelped and ground down hard 
against him.

"Ah... sorry."  

***

For a moment, Nagi looked worried. "Did I hurt you? Oh. Oh, I see." 

Puzzledly, Michelle blinked at him, only to cry out again when Nagi 
wobbled his finger inside the narrow passage. Clinging to his 
shoulders, Michelle lay panting in his arms when he ceased his 
stroking; hesitantly, a smile bloomed on his blushing face. 

"And no one knows your secret except for Kuroe, and he's too much a 
gentleman to tell. At least you are safe there. Not that you aren't 
safe with me, too, because you are. I won't say anything." 

Tenderly, he cradled his face between his hands, sprinkling kisses over 
his throat and chest. His hands glided over the silken expanse of his 
thighs, coaxing Michelle's legs into an embrace around his hips. 
Briefly, his cock nuzzled the graceful organ that rose so perfectly 
from the boy's groin, before Nagi delved between the softness that lay 
between to tease the opening hidden between his cheeks. 

"Luckily, there's a solution to every problem."

***

"And a delicious one at that!" gasped Michelle.  He smiled rather 
sheepishly and bit his wrist as if he thought that might keep him 
quiet for awhile.  It only served to leave a ring of rosy ticks that 
Nagi fumbled with his tongue between one slow caress and the next.  
The pucker of Michelle's rosebud shivered a little, though the rest 
of him grew warm and pink.

"I think the others might suspect.  They know I'm CAH, and that the 
pills I take make me kinda small, but anything else?" He shrugged.  "I 
don't know or really care."

Nodding, he palmed the other boy's nipples and stroked them gently as 
he let his hands slide back along his skin to his shoulder blades.  
Though neither had mentioned a question more, Nagi nodded and slipped 
his hands around Michelle to cradle his ass.  Enough juices had seeped 
from Michelle's tiny slit to wet him, but he left it, and so simply 
held his lover open as he pushed into him.  And his lover sighed, went 
deliciously limp in his arms.

***

"I've never had a lover who was so sensitive," said Nagi softly. 
"Suddenly, I think this vacation will be a most enlightening one." 

And then, there were no more words, just the rasp of flesh-on-flesh, 
and boyish voices sounding out their pleasure in soft coos and moans.

***

Michelle had given into the silence at last; the strange allure of not 
needing to speak.  It made sense, perhaps more than the rest of the 
encounter (for he had never been an easy lay despite his willingness) 
though no regret bloomed in him.  So yes, it would be enlightening 
indeed to find himself so; yes children of his makeup often did not 
have the sensuous appetite he did, yes he was really a girl but looking 
at his bare body straight on, the only thing that really grave it away 
was the tiny V of pink flesh that crowned the root of his cock.  Nagi 
had not even noticed it before it crossed his mind.

And then he touched him there, ran his hand along the hood that should 
have been tucked away but rather lay naked beneath him.  Michelle 
sighed and his body opened like a flower around Nagi's cock.  With no 
resistance between them, they slid together soundly, easily, wantingly.  
He dripped, and the pearly goo fell from their invisible bed, but never 
met the floor.  Rather it wound to his lips, and glossed them as they 
kissed.

That much though fell short.

"Oh shit! It's really soon but I think I'm gonna come.  I think... I..."

There flashed in him the briefest of images of himself upside down and 
his lover having him from that peculiar angle.  He didn't remember 
moving, but he did and somewhere in his flight of fancy, his orgasm 
took him and his hair brushed the floor.  

***

Beyond the open panes of Kuroe's window, the day had slanted into 
afternoon; the cloudy light shone more strongly into his room during 
those waning summertime hours, lovingly caressing whatever stood 
immediately before the sill. 

On that day, the object bathed in the afternoon glow wasn't a thing, 
but a person. Kuroe had dragged a fainting couch out of the tiny, 
unused bedroom adjacent to his own, one he'd come upon the day he 
moved into the building. It was covered in pale blue satin, and bore 
the faint scent of cedar. Kuroe had piled it with his orange 
cushions before Schuldich lay upon it--where he still rested even 
then, his wet hair scattered darkly upon the bright fabric beneath 
his head, his nude form dewy from his shower. Kuroe had forbidden 
him to dry off, and now, he was paying for it. He had to force 
himself to look away from him with every placing of his brush on the 
ceiling over his bed--his intended canvas. 

A breeze wafted over the sill, stirring the edges of the countless 
sketches Kuroe had made of him. Here and there, paint had oozed from 
the brush, splattering russet drops over his flesh, the towel he stood 
on. Upon the sloping ceiling, the hastily penciled form of his lover 
lounged, his eyes now impossibly green and dreamy, long fingers 
tangled in his damp, waving hair--locks already taking on smoldering 
color. 

"It's not you," Kuroe said at last, swirling the brush tip through 
the wide glob of fiery orange he'd mixed on the flat of his 
palette. "But it is. It's how I dreamed of you."

***

"Hey, I was just about to say 'That looks more like me than I do', but 
for once I figured I'd let you go first."  Normally, Schuldich would 
have been inclined to stretch, but he didn't dare move- there was no 
telling what Kuroe might do if he found the play of glowing shadows 
he'd so carefully arranged the least disturbed.  Well, actually there 
was telling and memories of a barfight even though Schuldich himself 
had not been there.  Besides, he was comfortable.

Kuroe had painted the eyes first, and a ribbon of skin beneath them so 
his later strokes wouldn't spoil the tiny lashes of zinnia orange he'd 
conjured one by one.  The eyes though were not only of the renaissance 
egg paints Kuroe paid far too much for, but some weird concoction of 
dye suspended in clear gel- it gave the eyes of painting-Schuldich a 
wet and brilliant quality just as the satin powder in the organdy color 
had made his hair seem softer than the rendered pillows underneath him.

His lover painted with skittish strokes that somehow had results surer 
than the crystals photographs were born from, and more apt to speak of 
his moods.  It really DID look more like Schuldich than Schuldich did- 
the eyes and the shoulder where Kuroe had started in earnest, laying 
down skin, then shadow, than stray tendrils of henna.  He was slipping 
down his side now, inspired it seemed to paint the cock he was so 
horribly, horribly fond of.

"In fact, I look good enough to fuck."

***

"I always thought you did," said Kuroe, switching out the brush 
tipped with a wet smear of pale fleshtone for one whose bristles were 
coated with vivid orange. Pausing to deepen the color with a dab of 
red, he marked the feathery outer edges of the figure's pubic hair 
with a series of quick, light strokes. 

At last, satisfied with the start he'd made, he lay the palette upon 
the towel at his feet, and made his springing way off the mattress. 
Plucking up the hand towel he'd had draped over the foot rail, Kuroe 
crossed over to the end of his bed to take in the image that was 
slowly blooming across that part of the ceiling. 

"I think it's turning out well," he said, making a half-hearted 
attempt at wiping his hands clean of paint as he drew near the couch 
where Schuldich reclined; lazily, his gaze tracked over the redhead's 
carefully sprawled body, studying the play of light and shadow across 
his form. 

/Guess what I'm thinking,/ he thought, smiling a little as he 
gingerly knelt upon the empty end of the couch. The paint smeared 
towel fell to the floor, and, as he stretched out over him, Kuroe 
smudged what traces of color the rough white loops had failed to soak 
up upwards along Schuldich's naked thighs, his sides; ivory-peach, 
tiger lily and ivy. 

"I hope you will forgive me, but in this instance, I happen to find 
reality far more beautiful than any dream."

***

"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't..." Schuldich's teeth glinted 
underneath his smile.  The pose in which Kuroe had been so careful 
to array him shattered as he reached up to snag his lover by the hair; 
hold him still; kiss him through the quarter hour chime.  The mouth 
that tangled with his own was sticky sweet and wet with want.  When 
they pulled from each other to breathe, their lips shone.

A little of the orange paint Schuldich caught from the faint lines of 
his ribs and pressed to the center of Kuroe's forehead.  He added 
simply enough, "Kinda tickles, doesn't it? But hey, you're a painter.  
If you don't know THAT by now..."

/Too bad for you./

Pinned to the couch by the other man's warmth or not, he stretched as 
lazily as the footsteps of the fine clouds outside, and his hips rose 
from their cradle on the couch cushions.  The paint there met Kuroe 
before much else of him did.

"Well, I know I like getting covered with it.  What I don't know is 
how you'd feel about having a guest.  Hmm? How does that sound?"

***

"A guest?" Kuroe asked, dipping down to lightly bite Schu's 
shoulder. "What do you mean...? I have you. Unless..." He gave him a 
gentle kiss. "Unless you mean..." 

Silence lapsed where their thoughts bloomed and meshed. Kuroe's face 
suddenly split in a grin as he began to toy with the damp red strands 
fanning out on Schuldich's pillow. 

"You needn't have asked, my love. Such a beauty as that one would 
always be welcomed here."

***

"That's good," Schuldich remarked with an flutter of his fingers over 
his smarting lips that ended only when Kuroe brushed his hand away.  
The touch left a long, blue-green smear on Schuldich's cheek, and he 
pawed at it for all the good it did, for he ended up wearing a moon-
shaped sigil rather than one tiny print.  "I already called her."

He shrugged, and the door shook with a knock that announced and did 
not ask.  Saffie darted inside with scarcely another sound besides 
the scratching of her toes upon the loft's floor.  She hung just 
inside Kuroe's door a moment, admiring what there was of her 
brother's image over his bed.

"How very pre-Raphaelite," she said, and it was plainly a compliment 
for all stillness in her voice, for she sat down on the edge of the 
bed and leaned back to admire the portrait, her legs hooked over the 
edge so the tiny white feather of her panties peeked out.  

***

Trading one last kiss with Schuldich, Kuroe picked his way carefully 
off the groaning little sofa. "So you know something of art," he 
said, straightening up, his attention more on the coltish sprawl of 
her slender legs, and the bared white edge she'd flashed him; a study 
of innocence. "It's nice to see your brother hasn't stinted on your 
education." 

Not taking her eyes from the painting, she smiled. Kuroe doubted it 
was because of what he'd just said; more like, because of what he'd 
just thought. 

"I drew him a few times before I got him into that pose. Or any 
other, for that matter. See?" Kuroe dropped three of the charcoal 
sketches he'd made upon the bed beside her. 

"I would draw you, too," he added, touching his fingers under her 
chin to coax her head into a different angle. "You're certainly 
beautiful enough to have your likeness committed to paper and 
canvas." He smiled. "Or plastered ceiling." 

Saffie had stretched out a little more, resting her weight on one 
elbow while she compared one drawing with her brother's actual form. 
In the doing, her skirt had shifted a bit higher upon her thighs; 
Kuroe could see a hint of her cotton-covered mound peeking out from 
below the hem. 

/How very Nabocovian,/ he thought, kneeling upon one knee at her 
bare, dangling feet, her toenails winking baby pink at him. Her legs 
were smooth, just the trace of girlish fuzz still clinging. Kuroe 
ran his fingertips along the curves of her calves, touching the damp 
backs of her knees before painting a faint line of aqua over the 
inside of her parted thighs. 

"The only thing...I can't decide which position to put you in 
first."

***

"Oh, I'm sure my brother has a few suggestions," Saffie murmured.  Her 
attention lit now on Kuroe's tinted finger tips rather than the images 
of her brother.  When she moved, she fluttered.  He had no chance to 
pull himself away from her as she snatched his wrist and drew his hand 
to her.  She rubbed his skin and his paint against her face like a 
kitten might rub its master's toes until she had an aqua skirl where 
the blush should have been on any other girl.

Shortly her brother who swept images away as he joined them on the bed 
just near enough to watch rather than tangle his bones with theirs.  
"Actually, I have lots of favorites.  I'm no help at all."  And with 
that, he snuggled back against the cushions, one hand behind his head, 
and the other tracing the outlines of his pinking cock.

The lace on her dress sang and creaked as Saffie sat up. "Have you got 
a pearl necklace?"

When Kuroe nodded, she let go of him.  

"May I borrow it?"

She didn't figure she needed to say please.  Her feathery-faint kiss 
did well enough.

***

"But of course," said Kuroe, and with one last grope of her slender 
thighs, he rose and crossed to his closet. Behind its narrow door hung 
several dark suits and the rainbow hues of his many dress shirts, so 
stark against the creamy lines of his nude body. 

"It's just here," he said, reaching past the small stack of shoeboxes 
for a large, satin covered box shaped like a 'D'. This, he drew out, 
blowing across its lid to scatter any dust that might have gathered 
upon it before he opened it. Inside, as his telepathic companions 
already knew, lay a single strand of fat, pink, South Pacific pearls. 

"They are real," he said, holding the box out to Saffie. "Pity their 
luster has faded though, but...I haven't anyone to wear them. And I 
can't bear to part with them." 

Kuroe paused at the edge of the bed to admire Saffie's girlish frame. 
"I imagine," he began, climbing onto the bed alongside Schuldich, 
"that you are going to make me glad that I never did."

***

Saffie merely smiled as she let the rose luster Kuroe offered here 
steal onto her fingers.  The pearls seemed to gravitate towards her, 
their gleam reaching up to the satin shimmer of her skin.  The box 
snapped closed behind their clasp, and she hefted them a moment from 
palm to palm, parted their lips to see what they were strung upon- 
they were old enough to have a chain of the slimmest metal beneath 
them rather than string.

"You and your antiques," Schuldich remarked with a sigh, though he 
seemed as taken with them as his sister was. He said to her with a 
grin, "You'll have to put them on or put them down to take off your 
clothes."

And then they were his to play with.

Saffie's dress was made of well-kept antique lace and clasped vintage 
hooks and eyes that made it impossible to hurry when she fastened or 
unfastened them.  With her back to Kuroe she parted them one by one 
down the porcelain slope of her back.  She had very tiny, indistinct 
shoulder blades- her bra nearly hid them, but that too came away and 
unlike the dress, went sailing carelessly onto the couch her brother 
had occupied.

When she turned to reclaim her pearls, her panties were gone as well, 
and so Kuroe got another very good look at her sex and the saffron 
feathers that dusted it.  When she took the necklace back, she let it 
drip for a moment over her thighs, very near the tiny mound, and then 
over her belly and her icing pink nipples which perked at its haphazard 
touch.  

With no cue Kuroe felt or heard she held them out to her brother, and 
he sucked on them a moment, wetting each one with his lips before he 
kissed her.  It might all have been some innocent gesture meant only to 
entice, but their companion found himself quite sure he had seen 
something like it before pass between Schuldich and someone Schuldich 
had possessed.

Either way, Saffie knelt before him now, but with her knees wide so 
her netherlips opened just enough that he could see the first hint of 
the color beneath.  The pearls she passed between her legs so one end 
lay before her and the other behind as she sank down onto them, and 
they rubbed into her as she began to pull them back and forth.

***

Kuroe had his head angled on Schuldich's shoulder so he could 
better watch the wet twitches of her cunt over the pale pink orbs she 
held in her hands. 

"I never thought to use them that way. I swear, I feel like such a 
novice." 

In his ear, he felt Schuldich's soft breath trickling, carrying his 
laugh along. Kuroe turned to bite his lobe before he parted from him, 
inching close to the kneeling Saffie. Quietly, he lay there on his 
side, one hand idly stealing over one spread thigh. The pearls were 
shining now, glossed with her slowly rising juices. 

"Are those cool, hard stones," he asked with a tap of his digits in the 
fine golden bush covering her sex, "turning you on, lovely little 
angel?"

***

"All fine things turn me on," Saffie assured their companion.  "But 
these are especially nice pearls.  So smooth."

She sank down closer to the covers which opened her labia somewhat more 
than the necklace alone.  She was pink and shimmery inside as the beads 
skating back and forth over her, save for her clit- that was lipstick 
rose and growing darker bit by bit as her wetness slipped against it.

Schuldich said idly to her as his hands stole over Kuroe's back,  
"Good, I wouldn't want you to cut yourself getting carried away with 
them again."

Their host simply looked from one to the other, and found them grinning 
up at him with no less libertine wickedness than he would have expected 
from such children.

"*MY* sister at least is not all teddy bears and cupcakes."  The 
redhead withdrew all together from his lover and sat down beside their 
little girl at play.  For awhile, he too simply watched, but once her 
breath was sobbing rather from her lips, he kissed her, dabbing his 
tongue against her own and closing his eyes with pleasure.

***

A look of mild astonishment brightened Kuroe's expression. "Oh, so 
that's how it is? I had no idea you were so~o close." 

Schuldich glanced over his shoulder to offer him a roguish wink, and as 
Kuroe watched, he bent to kiss her again, a slow mingling of lips and 
tongues, one hand sliding down her chest to cup one breast. The pearls 
went momentarily off course, racing along the outer edge of her sex 
before Kuroe nudged them back in place. 

"Oh, you are welcome," he replied to her silent utterance of thanks. 
Kuroe rose, drawn at last by the writhing of brother and sister, and 
lay down beside Saffie. Schuldich pulled away from her, amusing himself 
with nibbling and sucking at the side of her neck, and Kuroe found her 
bright blue eyes trained upon him. Lovingly, he stroked the curve of 
her cheek. 

"I should have guessed you would have been as surprising and delightful 
as your brother is." 

With that, he leaned forward and kissed her.

***

Saffie turned from her brother's half embrace into Kuroe's.  She kissed 
him in turn with all the careless grace she had offered her brother's 
mouth- all the wet depth and trickling tickles.  When they parted at 
last though it was his lips red and raw; hers had scarcely flushed.  

"She's as good a fuck as I am too," Schuldich assured their host.  
"Trust me."  But whatever else he'd wanted to say was muffled as Saffie 
dropped her pearls and coaxed him closer to Kuroe.  The two embraced 
before her, suckled feverishly on each others mouths and the necklace 
which for all its loveliness and the traces of her on it still gleaming 
eventually rolled away across the sheets.  

Then all three, teasing and letting their lips wander over one another, 
sank to those same covers.  Brother and sister both lapped Kuroe's 
chest, and he in turn rolled with them over the covers, feeling out how 
similar their fine bones were, and their ways of caress.  After only a 
short sensuous while though they were all rubbing against each other's 
thighs, inching closer, but not quite slipping together.

At least until Schuldich stuck his fingers in Saffie to wet them, and 
then dove for Kuroe's ass.  Saffie just burst out laughing.

***

Kuroe stretched under his rough, probing caresses like a cat, purring 
all the while. Before him lay the naked, slender expanse of Saffie's 
body, close enough for him to touch with his mouth. He could feel her 
heat, smell the scent of the perfume trickling between her legs, both 
serving to lure him further and farther in. 

"He never liked to waste too much time in bed," Kuroe whispered along 
the inner wall of one thigh. "I remember all too well." 

From somewhere above came a gasp, the soft wet smacking of a kiss. He 
felt Saffie tense in his hands, but he drew her to him anyway and 
flicked his tongue along the folds of her parted sex. 

"Mein herzig engel. Which one of us do you want the most?"

***

"Hmm?" Saffie purred in question, despite it being quite obvious she 
knew what her brother's lover had meant, inside and out.  Nonetheless, 
Kuroe joined in the game, let his tongue play but lightly along 
glistening skin that trickled along the outside of her cunt.  "But I 
have both of you..." she went on once her moans had left her.  "Why 
should I give one up?"

Schuldich answered her by making Kuroe moan against her, "That's a good 
question- we're all friends, we should all share."

That said, he sunk down against her thighs himself and nudged their 
host aside, kissed his sisters white-wine juices from his lips.  It was 
only a moment he dabbed his tongue deep inside her himself, then rather 
he took her clit between his fingers and squeezed it hard until Saffie 
came and clear honey dribbled from her onto his waiting palm.  

"And girls are nice to share because they can come over and over."

***

"You don't have to tell me that," purred Kuroe. "We shared women when 
we were a couple. Remember?" He swept his hair away from his cheek and 
bit his earlobe, whispering, "Or have you forgotten?"

Fingers still playing along Saffie's clit, Schuldich pulled away from 
him a little, and Kuroe caught a shuffle of amusement at the edges of 
his mind. He opened his mouth as if to make a retort, and Kuroe 
silenced him with a kiss. The flavor of Saffie's body lingered upon his 
tongue. 

"Sweet," Kuroe murmured, sliding his hand down 
Schuldich's stomach, between his legs to stroke him lightly. "Highly 
addictive. No doubt I'll develop a longing for you, same as your 
brother has...and I have plenty of time to drive myself mad with your 
lissome form. And so, I think I would like to see your brother indulge 
himself with you first. His need seems to be greater, and I rather like 
my women to be well and truly ready before I embrace them." 

Raking his teeth along Schuldich's shoulder, he tightened his grip on 
his lover's cock just hard enough to draw a moan from his lips, and 
then he left his side for Saffie's. Tenderly, he cupped one breast, 
thumbing the swelling nipple as he sprinkled kisses over the mound 
closest. 

"But of course, that doesn't mean we can't play, too, Saffie."

***

Saffie yawned dainty and stretched over the rumpled sheets.  She 
wrapped her toes in the satin and her fingers in Kuroe's soft, blond 
hair, coaxing him to lie down with his head against her chest.  He did 
so gladly, and began to kiss her there as wetly as he might have her 
mouth.

"I love the way she says yes, don't you?" her brother drawled.  Rather 
than pick himself up, he snuggled deeper into the knot they had made 
and felt his way along their bodies.  This time when his fingers found 
Kuroe's ass, he took time slipping them inside him, working his rosebud 
until it was all but melting in his hand.  He tasted no complaint when 
his second finger dripped in beside it.

He was already half on top of his sister, and yet so lost in his 
attentions to Kuroe's soft muscles that Saffie grumbled and dragged him 
the rest of the way.  Though she was so much smaller than him the light 
lines of their bodies fitted well enough together- her brother cradled 
her with his legs rather that nestle between hers and they rubbed 
against each other rather than begin at once, 

But the restraint was only part of their play Kuroe knew, and he joined 
it as he rose from her a moment; kissed her, kissed Schuldich all the 
way down his throat and fell back to his nibbling, even as Saffie 
shifted beneath him.

Her sex was closed tightly, but not so much that her brother could not 
coast along her netherlips and, when he was ready at last, seep past 
her wetness.  They purred so much between caresses alone that Kuroe 
scarcely realized they had begun.

***

They seemed to have melted together, so easy was the joining of their 
bodies. Kuroe, with one last kiss for Saffie, drew away a little so he 
could better watch them, one hand idly caressing her young breasts. He 
couldn't decide which of them was the fairer: Schuldich, whose hair 
fell like shredded ribbons down his back, his muscles flexing as he 
moved against his sister; or Saffie, who sighed so prettily as she rose 
to meet him. 

So he gave up trying to choose and reached for her hand instead--which 
he placed above his fully erect cock. 

"Touch me, Saffie. I want to be teased."

***

"And I wasn't teasing you before? Making you wait?" Saffie simpered at 
him an instant before her brother smothered her mouth with another 
kiss.  She tugged on Kuroe and he obliged her, lay close enough that 
they brushed him in their rougher moments, and he could fondle 
Schuldich if he liked.  He did, touched him everywhere, touched her 
sometimes by accident or on purpose.  When he did, she held him that 
much tighter, or dipped her dainty fingers against his balls for a 
tickle.

It was her brother who broke them apart,  He wiped his hand on his 
mouth and whispered to her loud enough that their lover just barely 
heard.  "You're ready."

She was indeed.  Her juices poured from her as he slipped away, 
shimmering with them himself.  He did not leave her all together, but 
let her stretch out on his lap and pull her netherlips apart.

"Just how you like girls, hmm?"

And she beckoned.

***

"I won't insult you by telling a lie," said Kuroe with a smile. "That 
would be terribly rude-as would being unprepared..." 

With that, he rose from where he lay and crossed over to the 
nightstand, where he pulled out a lidless, round gold tin. Within lay 
countless wrapped condoms, different colors and styles. Kuroe quickly 
dragged his fingers through the pile, pulling out the first one that he 
snagged. It was pearly white and ribbed around the middle. Kuroe tore 
the plastic with his teeth and extracted the tightly rolled disc. 

"Yes, yes, I know. He wouldn't let you play with me if he knew you'd 
get hurt. However...I like to have some peace of mind." 

The mattress shook as he settled himself between her sprawled legs, his 
cock newly sheathed--soon, doubly so. Kuroe cradled her thin frame in 
his arms as he rose over her, sliding his penis in and out just the 
tiniest bit. 

"Ah...lovely Saffie..." he purred, bending down to tickle her breasts 
with his hair (as his hands were busy sliding upwards over Schuldich's 
thighs).

***

"Lovely indeed." She echoed his scintillating tones with hers when she 
spoke- not in sarcasm, but rather in delight for she was thrumming 
inside, writhing against him with the same finesse he used in pushing 
into her.  She wet her lips before she rose enough from her brother's 
lap to kiss Kuroe.  All that lay between them as she did was her 
brother's hands where they lay folded around her chest.

"But Uncle Chrestien is teasing us," Schuldich rubbed his nose against 
her hair, and then his tongue, as odd as it might have been.  "He knows 
we're both great fans of ribbing, and he knows he can't hurt us."

To which their host smiled amidst his moans and rubbed his tip over 
Saffie's clit for a moment before burying it once more in her oozy 
folds

"So we are all teases.  Very happy teases I might add."

As Kuroe skidded from his sister, Schuldich snagged his hair and kissed 
him.  And took Saffie for a few more moments himself.

***

"That is what I like to hear: that you are happy. Both of you," Kuroe 
added as he sank into Saffie again. He shivered as she thrust upwards 
to meet the slide of his pelvis. Schuldich's hands skimmed his back, 
his shoulders, cradled his jaw; he tipped his head back, and just as 
Kuroe opened his eyes, Schuldich kissed him again, tongue darting just 
past the wall of his lips. It bore the taste of Saffie's tender cunt. 

Kuroe threaded his fingers through his hair to prolong the kiss as much 
as he might. From there, he stroked the smooth skin of his chest, 
glancing over the pucker of one nipple and the faint ridges of his 
ribs, so hidden by twitching muscle. 

/As for me? I have been happy since you came./

***

What was left for them to do? They smiled, salty with lust, upon him 
and swept after his lips.  Saffie, being nearer, felt them first, then 
her brother, and in the end, the Marlow children kissed each other so 
their lover could watch.  Of course, there was no need by then to say 
how they felt.  Onto other things...

Schuldich stretched along the sheets so the tiny blond thing in his 
arms rested only on his shoulders, as if she had fallen there by 
accident.  His hands stole over his thighs, now and then hers, though 
he watched his own skin all the while.

"Liebechen! You got me all wet."  Indeed, his rosy cock was creamy 
slick with her juices.  

"Hmph! You should be glad.  Personally I... Eeek!"

She fell.  It was not that Kuroe's thrusts had stuttered her from 
Schuldich, but that her brother wasn't there to offer it anymore.  The 
sunlight caught her and then their lover as he drew over her, clasped 
her breasts and her belly as he lunged into her again.  Though weight 
behind him then, and a hand on his back.

"Personally, would you fuck Uncle Chrestien silly? Odd.  That's more or 
less what I was thinking of."

***

"And you were going to suggest that when?" asked Kuroe. "Before or 
after penetration?" 

Leaning upon Kuroe's shoulder, Schuldich beamed, blew him a tiny kiss, 
and with a hard yank of one leg, managed to unseat him. He caught 
himself before he could crush the slender girl beneath him, balancing 
his weight flatly on both hands. His cock, no longer buried within 
Saffie's warmth, shuddered; he started when she cupped her palms around 
it. 

And Schuldich had become a most insistent weight upon his back. He 
could feel his hips curving to his ass, the ready length of his sex 
brushing against him. His breath floated warm and ticklish over his 
nape, and Kuroe dug his fingers into the bedspread.  

/Do it./

***

When Saffie nodded, it was good enough for him to know her brother had 
said yes, and even with that, his hot liqueur sentiment, it was she who 
moved closer first, and clasped his cock against her belly as she 
stroked it.  It was with the chime of her brother's voice she spoke, 
the certain gleams he gave his words.  "You always get so slick and 
warm when you feel me whispering against your neck."

Schuldich laughed as he eased himself into Kuroe, though he could have 
taken him much more quickly- his lover was willing enough.  They lay 
hip to hip, back to soft thatch of Schuldich's pubic hair for some 
moments, each breathing soft and deep and stirring only now and then.

"Mnn, Saf.  Your uncle hasn't had a two way in a long time.  Be nice."

She nodded, and as her brother in earnest began to enjoy his lover, she 
tipped backwards enough that Kuroe's cock lay lengthwise in the 
slickness of her netherlips, and soon enough against the string of 
pearls they had earlier forgotten, for as she rubbed them on her clit 
they tickled his tip.  

***

"Another use," he breathed. "My mother would be so shocked." 

/Maybe.../

And then he closed his eyes on the beauty that laid beneath him, 
wanting just to feel their skin moving on his own. The air was ripe 
with sex, with the scent of his lover's long red hair, that trailed so 
damply over his back as he bent over him. Every thrust shuddered, and 
he bore down with all his strength upon Schuldich's invading cock, 
trying to give him back as good as he was getting--and yes, it was so 
good, and he admitted as much in a ragged whisper. 

Savil's touch came cool and gentle to his brow, and he opened his eyes 
then. She stroked his cheek, tapped his chin, then rested her arm above 
her head, shifting her young breasts alluringly. The pearls swooned 
back and forth, drawn down by roll of his hips. He lowered himself over 
her then, nudging the pearls into the hollow between leg and hip, and 
rubbed his cock against her with intent until she cooed. 

And when, lured inside by the drops that flowed between the folds of 
her shell-like sex, his penis slipped inside her, Savil gave a tiny cry 
of joy, and wound her thin arms around his neck.

***

"Every threesome has a baby, and I think we've found ours," said 
Schuldich.  It would have seemed otherwise that he was speaking of his 
sister who beneath their lover pitched and let her breath sob between 
them, but rather he laced his arms with hers and clasped Kuroe to him;  
rubbed his nipples against his back.  

Though she could have offered them her thoughts easily enough without 
words, Saffie waited for the throes deep in her cunt to leave her 
before she spoke- "Maybe we should punish him."

They laughed then, the two Marlow children, the sound turned silvery by 
the tenderness of their breaths.  Schuldich stayed close a moment, 
buried to the hilt in Kuroe's flesh as he rose and fell upon his knees- 
it made the head of his cock rub back and forth, and in turn, Kuroe 
moved, neared him, shook inside Saffie who arched into him and ground 
the string of pearls between their bodies.

"We could, but then what would we do next time?"

"I'm sure we could think of something."

But in Kuroe, some hesitation then despite the heat that had gathered 
on his skin, the cadence with which he met Schuldich's thrusts.  Saffie 
moued but did not fight him into her again.  Rather her brother pulled 
from their lover and said to him, "She's on the pill.  Take that condom 
off when you cum and rub it on her clit.  She loves that," before he 
took him once again. 

[[[OOC: What Schu says here is a little different from what I first 
posted.  I forgot Kuroe was wearing a condom! Kwobt no baka.]]]

***

Kuroe shuddered under Schuldich's onslaught, but didn't comply with his 
command until the fey girl beneath him cut through the murmur of his 
and her brother's mingled thoughts with her clear assent. Then did he 
abandon himself to her tenderness. As aroused as he was, it wasn't long 
before he did reach orgasm, clamping down on Schuldich's member as he 
cried out. Savil clung to him, he to her, and Kuroe kissed her sweetly 
as he filled her. 

And then, he pulled back, still in Schuldich's embrace, and, carefully 
rolling the condom off his penis, gathered the pearly juices the latex 
end held.  With those coated fingertips, he massaged her clitoris.

***

Not much time passed between his first touch and the moment she ceded 
herself to his ministrations.  She was hot herself, slick and pliant 
and ready.  When her muscles clutched at him at last she yelped, and 
having trapped his wrist between her thighs, dragged Kuroe to her by 
his hair; kissed him.  

As such, it wasn't long before Schuldich, who had flung himself upon 
the covers, intruded upon their lips.  He kissed his sister first and 
bit her on the cheek as if to chide her for her roughness.  With their 
lover he was somewhat more tender, and smoothed his floss where she had 
pulled on him.

Saffie took this in stride, and in the mean time slipped to the edge of 
the bed in search of her brother's elusive borrowed nightshirt.  It was 
still lolling against the footboard where he had flung it earlier that 
day, and in it a silver cigarette case still hid.

When the two men had managed to untangle themselves (having rolled all 
the way to the pillows and back in the mean time, not to mention gotten 
semen and paint all over the covers) they found her peacefully curled 
up against the footboard, smoking like a French teenager.  

***

"Quite the cosmopolitan young woman," said Kuroe, smiling. "Not that I 
expected anything less from a sister of yours, Schuldich." He reached 
for the case that rested beside her on the mattress then, holding it up 
as he asked, "May I?"

A perfect ring shivered on the air from the pink O of her lips, and 
Savil nodded. Kuroe took out a fag and lit it from the slender cylinder 
lighter that fitted in the lid. As he snapped the case shut, he noticed 
the fanciful curlicues of the name etched on it's curved top: B. 
Crawford. 

"Decided to take a little souvenir before you left, hm?"

***

"He threw it at me and I helped myself." Schuldich quite yawned once he 
had said so, but with that much passed, he reached over and knocked the 
nail of his forefinger of the lid of the case.  It didn't do him much 
good, but somewhat pointed out the hairline scratch there.  "And I 
always manage to crush whatever packs I got on me, so I figured, what 
the hell? And didn't bother throwing it back."

But for the mean time, he took Kuroe's cigarette and offered it to 
Saffie who lit it on the end of her own.  Once her brother had helped 
himself to a drag, he finally handed the fag back to its somewhat 
rightful owner.

***

Kuroe accepted it with lips only, dragging deeply of the sweet smoke as 
he turned the case over and over in his hand. 

"A handsome thing it is, costly, too, no doubt," he said, though he 
tossed it back on the bed with such quickness, it was as if he 
considered otherwise. "And useful, I'll grant, and yet not so, with his 
name scratched across the top." 

Through the perfumed clouds that had gathered about them, Kuroe eyed 
his redheaded lover. "It is something he carries always, something he 
will miss. And you took it because you knew he eventually would come 
looking for it."

***

"No," said Saffie, "Dadd-... Crawford really did throw it at him! He's 
got a big lump behind his ear where it hit him.  The scratch is from 
the earring he had on."

Schuldich, while he didn't invite his lover to touch him, turned his 
back to Kuroe and pulled his hair to one side.  Sure enough, behind his 
left eat there was a small, reddish knot, not to mention a teardrop-
shaped impression on his lobe where the backs of several clip ons had 
worn themselves into his skin.  

Satisfied he'd given enough of a show, the elder telepath continued.  
"And this is what happens to cigarettes if I have 'em on me without a 
case!"

Having helped himself once more to his pilfered stash, he proceeded to 
crush a rather innocent fag until the paper split and wisps of tobacco 
poured over his hands, and then Kuroe, for he quite pounced him and 
rubbed them all over his chest.  

***

It was at that point that Savil found herself quite forgotten. For 
Kuroe in turn, grabbed Schuldich and pulled him down, scooping his hair 
back with one hand as he breached the few inches that parted them with 
a kiss. 

"I don't doubt that he threw it at you," he whispered. "I don't doubt 
that you took it. It's the reasons that I question, Schuldich."

***

"You always need those, don't you?" Schuldich remarked once he could 
draw breath which was not his lover's.  "But why does anything need a 
reason? Aa, you won't answer.  Not that you have to.  Or that you ever 
do."

He smiled then, and in time Kuroe smiled as well.  The pearls nearly 
fell from the bed but Schuldich caught them at the last and with them 
clasped against his palm began to rub his lover's balls.  His sister 
did not seem to care that she had been left out of whatever lusts they 
winged along- she simply whistled through her smoke and went to the 
window so they could have more room.  She stood there for a long time, 
looking over London and waving to the passersby who happened to catch 
sight of her bare breasts.  

***

"Y'know, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but there are days I 
wish I was back in Tokyo.  No, seriously.  I hate it here.  The tea 
tastes funny, and everybody makes funna me 'cause I don't like black 
sausages and I got bad table manners.  That's not true! My table 
manners are the best! In Japan at least.  And it smells funny here! 
Like dry.  My eyes always prick- who knew I had allergies? I didn't! 
They water more than Yuki's do! You can't get good curry, there's no 
melon sorbet, or ramune, or those chewy chicken bits Youji usedta 
always make.  I'm so homesick I could die and NOW *SCHULDICH*!"

Sadly, Ken shouted just loudly enough to frighten away all the intrepid 
pigeons who had gathered around him.  Fortunately, they didn't 
understand, and almost none of the humans in earshot did- Ken had been 
ranting in Japanese so crass, so rude, it would have sent a proper 
Japanese person into convulsions.

Finding his audience gone, Ken resumed his lament.  "YOU UNGRATEFUL 
BASTARDS! I GAVE YOU BREAD! BREEEEEEEEE-... Oooh! Double Dutch fudge! My 
favorite.  Thanks Aya."

***

"Anytime," replied Aya in their native tongue, and he settled back 
with his own dessert. For himself, he'd chosen a single scoop of 
vanilla flecked with specks of bean, his favorite. For a while, no 
sound passed between them save for the soft snap of the cone as Ken 
bit into it, or his none-too-muffled hums of pleasure as he ate--just 
like a kid might act towards his favorite treat. It always made Aya 
smile. 

"Yeah, sometimes I get homesick, too" he said at last. "But...London 
has its good points. No, it does," he insisted, meeting Ken's 
doubtful look. "It's rarely very hot here. It rains a lot. There 
are art galleries and libraries and museums, and nearly everyone is 
soccer mad." 

With a grudging smile, Ken nudged him sharply in the ribs. Aya 
nudged him back. 

"And that's not the best part. You know what that is?" Aya asked, 
leaning a little closer to him. "The best part is I can say whatever 
I want to you, and no one can understand me at all."

***

"That's true..." Ken finally admitted with the most doubtful of 
concessions.  His smile had waned, but only because he'd managed to get 
chocolate all over his upper lip, and he couldn't smile and lick it off 
at the same time.  "For all they know..." he made a sweeping gesture here 
to the whole of the plaza, every dog walker to jingling boutique door, 
every light gone dim by day and every fa‡ade just old enough to make 
their newness seem an optical illusion, "...they think we're talkin' 
about somethin' at college, or the ice cream or our favorite team 
losin' a game! Not having to live with a telepathic assassin who we 
just found out's a fucking nudist!"

Aya kept to him placid sense of secrecy, and gave no more than very 
Japanese acknowledgement to his lover's remark.  

"OK, so I do like that," this he got to only after he'd demolished the 
top inch of his cone before lapping the ice cream out from inside it.  
"And Knights of the Hex!"

"Knights of the Hex" being Ken's amateur team, or at least the team he 
would have wanted to join if he had time and Yuki wasn't always 
complaining about how awful the pun in their name.  

"But I still say the ice cream in Japan's better than this, even if I 
*can* tell you, I dunno, how good you are at blowjobs here in public 
and nobody gives a damn."

Not that Ken's cheeks cared either way, he still blushed, and looked 
this way and that over the frightened pigeons, just to make SURE he was 
right.  

"Not that I ah... want them too.  You're mine, Aya, all mine.  That 
sweet cherry ass of yours?  Perfection.  I could have a hundred guys 
and I'd be picturin' you the whole time, all hot and bothered with 
just a little cut here an' there, a little blood a lotta lube and a 
leather ring around your... oh god, this is weird..."

***

"Yeah," rasped Aya, suddenly half-strangled on his last bite of ice 
cream. "No one can get what we're saying! Not even if I tell you 
how incredible it feels to have my cock buried inside you, the way 
you clutch at me as I move against you. The husky, desperate way you 
moan my name when you come." 

The cup wound up on the bench to his far side, and Aya turned his 
whole attention upon Ken, chancing a caress of his cheek with his 
thumb. "I could even tell you that right now, I'm imagining what you 
look like naked, what it feels like to have your limbs wrapped around 
me, how your skin feels under my hands." 

It was Aya's turn to scan the people passing to and fro, and after 
he'd satisfied his curiosity about them, he satisfied himself with 
Ken, leaning forward to give him a kiss. 

"I am yours, and you are mine."

***

That was the charm that finally banished Ken's self-control- the cold 
and creamy lips stealing over him with such artistry; the need that 
trickled through their grace.  He was less careful than his lover when 
he kissed him back for he didn't look and he managed to get a smear of 
chocolate down his cheek, though that much was easily spit-washed away.

"Mine mine mine mine mine..." he chanted to himself, though Aya drifted 
near enough to hear him.  "To want to fuck to need to cut to crave to 
claim to play with to..."

When his nose began to bleed, he simply lapped up the little crimson 
stain and went back to his ice cream.

"To umm... give me a hard on in public...?"

Ken abruptly pressed his knees together, not that this did much in the 
way to hide what had become of the front of his jeans.  

***

Aya, who'd promptly produced his unused napkin for Ken's dripping 
nose, glanced down then at the telltale bulge at the front 
of his lover's jeans. Without reacting at all, he finished dabbing 
the lingering red traces, then wadded up the napkin, depositing it 

"I could take care of that, you know," he said. "There are 
plenty of trees here you could lean against while you eat your ice 
cream, plenty of bushes I could crouch behind, hiding from curious 
eyes while I suck you off." 

Wide-eyed, Ken suddenly looked around at him, and found Aya regarding 
him with a wicked little smile. "What do you say?" 

***

"I say if we get caught, we find some way to blame Kuroe."

And with a noisy slurp of his cone, Ken got to his feet, pulled his 
shirt free of the waist of his jeans in some sad attempt to hide just 
how horny he was, and proceeded to drag Aya off into the park proper.  
Oddly enough, the pigeons no longer seemed to find him frightening, and 
met his curious glares with the calmest of chirps.  Where his fingers 
clasped those of his lover though, his skin was warm and laced with 
sweat.

More than that, he was giggling by the time they were out of sight, not 
a very good thing to do when there's ice cream involved.  He nearly 
choked on it, and likewise his own breath when Aya chanced caressing 
him through his clothes.  

His lover was obliged to guide him into the rustling shade beneath one 
of the older trees.  The trunk of the oak was bandages with the 
carvings of other couples- some fresh, some older than the street 
outside, some crossed out and written afresh with one name different.  
Ken couldn't help but feel he wasn't the first lover to steady himself 
with his back to the bark.  But Aya kissed him again and sank into the 
juniper bushed the gardeners had forgotten.     

***

There the earth was soft with thick tufts of grass and lingering 
traces of rain.  Cradling Ken's hips, Aya nestled himself 
between his lover's parted legs, and rubbed his head against the 
shallow curve of his stomach. He felt him softly chuckle, his 
fingers briefly tangling with the mussed red strands of his hair. 

"We haven't done this in a long time," Aya whispered.  Above him, he 
found Ken watching him, ice cream rather forgotten for the moment. A  
drop of chocolate fell from the end of the cone, and splashed upon 
Aya's cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, tasting of it. 

"You might get me to like chocolate," he said. "Wouldn't be the 
first thing you've made me fond of." 

A smile stole fleetingly over Aya's features, and then, his fingers 
were busy at the fastenings of Ken's jeans, and he turned his 
concentration upon the matter at hand. Once he had nudged the folds 
of his fly open, he found something of a surprise. 

"No underwear," murmured Aya, fanning his fingers over Ken's lower 
belly. He was so soft there--so sensitive, too, judging by the way 
he'd jumped when Aya touched him. "One might think you planned some 
assignation such as this when you got up this morning." 

As Ken made a sound like a strangled sort of hum in answer, Aya 
clasped his cock between his hands. It was so warm against his 
palms, felt so velvety and fragile. Aya stroked it gently with 
fingertips only, tip to base. He scrunched his nails in the slick, 
musky-scented floss around it, and Ken let out a quiet little moan. 

"Shh," whispered Aya, sliding his jeans a little lower as he moved 
in. Holding him thus, his hands wrapped around his bare hips, Aya 
took him into his mouth, opening his throat to swallow him as far as 
he could.

***

Ken whimpered in answer. There was no part of him not melting towards 
tense, no muscle left unplucked by Aya's lips, however indirect. His 
shoulder blades and the trunk of the oak tree ground closer and closer 
together as he sought to keep his balance.

He bruised, and his bandages snagged and began to creak with the 
thrumming of his heart.

But he was quiet when he could be, and he didn't scream, as much as he 
wanted too; as much as Aya's mouth would usually make him. For his 
lover wasn't of the tender school of sex, even in this. He left his 
teeth bare and squeezed with his wet lips. For Ken even the tender, 
hidden flesh his throat seemed tighter, hotter than it should have 
been.

It took him awhile to remember what was left of his ice cream, but Ken 
did, and he nibbled to keep his mind off falling.  His only distraction 
after that was curlicue of chocolate he captured, and held just shy of 
his lover's reach.

***

Though Ken wasn't really offering it to him, Aya took it as such, 
having tracked its journey from edges of the cone to the tip of his 
lover's finger. Frost wisped above it, then melted, reminding Aya of 
how his own mouth felt with something that cold and creamy nestled 
within it. It made him yearn...

At once, he drew away from Ken's cock, cradling it lightly with his 
palms as he shifted to scoop the dollop of ice cream from Ken's fingers 
with the tip of his tongue. It melted a bit, spreading its chill to the 
corners of his aching jaw, but Aya didn't take the time to savor it as 
such--just parted his sticky lips to swallow Ken again, wrapping his 
blood-warmed sex in his mouth. Above him, he heard Ken's gasp of 
surprise, and a smiled threatened the circling edges of his lips. 

"Pity I don't have any ice cubes lying about," he breathed softly, 
breaking to press a chilly kiss to the crown of Ken's cock as he gently 
stroked his lover's balls.

***

"Yeah, pity," rasped Ken.  His own lips were trembling again between 
the cold and his gasping breath.  Aya's caress put the last of his 
sense out of him.  All of London vanished save for Aya and the 
roughness clinging to his back as he swayed in and out of his mouth. 

He was halfway down the tree before he realized he was slipping, and 
the only thing keeping him up anymore was Aya's hand between his legs.  
His jeans had fallen to the edges of his hips.

Well, his hands had better things to do than straighten them. 

His fingers stole through Aya's hair, smoothing at first, then 
tangling.  His lover didn't make much sign he noticed, just nuzzled his 
pubic hair a little an hummed against his tip.  Ken, intentions aside, 
moaned and ended up yanking Aya's head into his thrust hard enough to 
bloody his nose.

"Ah shit! Not again!"

***

Tears shining in the corners of his smarting eyes, Aya hastily pulled 
away from his lover, and clapped a protective hand over his injured 
nose. He sensed more than actually saw Ken slump to his knees in front 
of him, one hand uncertainly stroking his bent head. Aya didn't shake 
him off, nor did he give any sound of pain, though he stayed hunched 
over his bent knees until the intense stinging began to abate. 
Gingerly, he prodded his nose for breaks, and found none, though the 
palm that had covered his face was badly streaked with blood; he could 
taste it on his own lips still, the wound still slowly bleeding afresh. 

"And now I remember why we haven't done this in a while."

***

"Itsokayaya!" wailed Ken, who was defiantly more assuring himself than 
anyone else nearby, let alone Aya, that it was indeed OK.  "Itsokay! 
Itsokay! It looks ok! Does it look okay? I think it does, I mean 
there's no brains or nothin' drippin' out an'..."

His lover put an end to his less than appetizing soliloquy by canting 
him a world-weary and much be-bloodied glare.

One that made Ken's neglected penis ache, made him shudder and wring 
his hands.  And Aya sighed.  He had to know what was coming.

Ken jumped him.  They landed with a crash in the middle of the juniper 
bushes, the very bottom of Ken's cone sailing off to knolls unknown.   
He had his mouth all over Aya's face, his tongue in his nostrils, his 
lips on his lips where they were red and one hand on Ays's hip to hold 
himself steady as he ground his cock on his lover's jeans.

***

"Ken," Aya gasped between kisses. "Ken, don't waste it like that." 

The wet slither of his tongue ceased marking its trail over his blood-
stained face, and Aya opened his eyes to find Ken staring down at him 
rather blankly. His hips still rolled against him, and Aya had to bite 
back a moan. He was getting as hard as Ken already was, and Aya found 
the undulations of his body torturous. Without apology, he jammed his 
hands between their bodies, and released his own fly, wriggling his 
jeans halfway down his hips. 

"Lube's in my right pocket," he breathed. "I can fuck you, or you can 
fuck me. Whatever you want." 

And with that, he dragged him down for another fierce kiss.

***

Ken kissed him back, hungry and oblivious.  When they parted, he 
whispered with his smiling, bloodied lips, "What did you think I was 
doin'? Lookin' for spare change?"

And he bit him hard enough to make his lips bleed too and drank from 
them kiss after kiss.

He turned out both his lover's pockets looking for the tube.  Keys and 
change and lost flower petals flew through the bushes after his 
fingers.  When the elusive lube was finally his, he soaked himself and 
hurled what his crushing fingers had left of the package away, propped 
his hands under Aya's ass and wriggled into him as best he could 
through the tangle of denim and wounded limbs.

***

Aya's cry came out more like a whimper, smothered as it was by the grip 
of his teeth in his bruised, lower lip. Ken's thrusts were hard and 
eager, made smooth by the slick coat he'd slicked himself in. Even so, 
it hurt as he entered him--blissfully, heart-poundingly so. 

"Yeah, there...Ken," Aya gasped, one hand now resting between his 
spread, upraised legs to stroke his own dripping cock. "I never 
thought...I'd like being the bottom so much," he breathed.

***

With that, Ken grinned like a brat whose whining has gotten him the 
best of the candy meant for after supper.  He seized his lover by the 
bangs and pulled his head back to bare his neck for his most tender 
bites, his lips for his most salacious whispers.  "God, I love to hear 
you say that. YES! You're mine, mine, mine no matter..."

Aya's knuckles brushed his stomach then, and feeling them he laughed 
low and wicked- let his lover's hair go and rather grasped his hands, 
pinned them to the juniper roots just under their head as he hitched 
the hips beneath his own from the grass and ground into Aya's 
fluttering muscles again.

***

"Ken! Damn it, let me go!" Aya groaned, struggling beneath him as the 
other boy penetrated him over and over without mercy. His weeping cock 
brushed Ken's stomach as he lunged over him, but the strokes lacked the 
friction he so dearly craved. Pushing back against him didn't help, he 
found, for Ken truly had him secured in his grasp. Frustrated almost to 
the point of rage, Aya slumped back to the ground and lay still save 
for the frantic rise and fall of his chest. 

"If you aren't going to let me get myself off, then do it for me," he 
demanded, rising up to snap his teeth at Ken when the other boy 
attempted to kiss him.

***  
 
"Whoa! Hold on a sec! Calm down!"

But the chilly glare in his lover's eyes had plenty to say on that 
matter, namely- NO. *You* calm down. 

Ken was honestly somewhat abashed, (and somewhat bloody still from 
nursing at his lover's wounds) but not abashed enough to fuck Aya with 
any less enthusiasm. Or ponder that he might like having his tongue 
bitten- they'd never tried that on purpose.

"Okay, Okay. You know how I get off on your... our... umm... kinks? 'Ken, 
you cut me,', 'Ken, I got a bruise', 'Ken, Kuroe got me with one of his 
roses again', 'Ken, you missed'."

He had bitten his lover's throat once for each request, and smiled 
against his skin as he took him in his arms. Ken cradled Aya away from 
their bower with one hand, and rubbed his cock against his own belly 
with the other.

***

"Glad I could oblige you," hissed Aya, rocking up to meet Ken when the 
dark haired boy lunged for him again. His cock slid upwards over Ken's 
belly as they moved, guided by the hand that held it. It was warm and 
dry there, and the building friction of flesh on flesh made Aya ache 
there even more than before. 

"Oh, yeah. Like that," he breathed, wriggling a little under his 
caressing hand. "How is you always know what to do for me? Can you read 
me so well? Ken..." 

His damp fingers traced Ken's cheek, then crept around to cup the back 
of his head to pull him down for a kiss.

***

Ken in turn crushed his mouth upon his lover's, more biting than 
kissing, slurping at his lips, his blood, his tongue.  As Aya's moans 
became more harsh, only then did he quiet himself; sooth now and wet 
the other boy's face.

"Because you're *MINE*."

This he offered only through his gasps as he squeezed Aya's cock 
against his fingers and rubbed the pad of his thumb hard into his 
juicy tip.  His lover's muscles seized and snuggled him and he came 
hard enough to loose his balance.  It was only plundering Aya's mouth 
again that kept him from sending them both rolling over and over 
through the brush.

***

With his arms wrapped tightly around Ken's body, Aya jerked out the 
last shudders of his orgasm, his dying moans swallowed in the kisses 
the younger man offered so eagerly. At last, driven only by the aching 
of their breathless lungs, they broke a little apart, gasping in each 
other's ears as their hands idly wandered. 

"We must remember this place," murmured Aya at length. "Only next time, 
I get to have you. I see you on your hands and knees while I slide in 
and out of your ass." 

To emphasize his words, Aya slipped his hands down Ken's back to cup 
that part of his anatomy. Ken's arms tightened around him, and he felt 
the surprised little breath he'd exhaled tickle the side of his neck. 
Taking that as something of a cue, Aya wrestled him onto his back, 
where he loomed over him, straddling his hips. His shirt clung to him 
from one shoulder, having been stripped from the other, and cum gleamed 
over his stomach, silvering the scars that he bore there. With a weary 
little smile, Aya wiped his damp bangs from his forehead with the back 
of one wrist. 

"Let's not go back. Let's run off to Blackpool and see the 
Illuminations instead. No one would expect us to do that."

***

Ken sighed, satisfied and full, ready for a nap or another fuck as the 
mood dictated. Rather than answer straight off, he dragged his wrist 
over his eyes, grumbled, and dissatisfied with the result, reached into 
his jacket and came up with a rather rumpled baseball cap.

"Ahh, Aya m'love. I'd say that's a smashing idea." (He spoke in 
Japanese, save for the smashing, which came out in accentless english 
and sounded downright bizarre in the middle of his slangy, eastern 
voice.) "'cept you're dripping."

One blue eye gleamed at Aya from under the cap's vision, and one thread 
of cum on his thighs which had not been there a moment before, caught 
his attention as it oozed closer and closer to his early morning 
wounds.

Ken just sniggered. "Not that we can't take care of that at least." 
Having neglected his cap for a moment morehe scooted down between his 
lover's legs and deftly licked his rosebud and the smooth skin beyond 
clean, sparing no caress, no fumble, no kiss.

"In fact," as was tradition when it came to Ken's odd ways of providing 
emphasis, he went on as if he had done nothing strange, "let's not go 
back. Not for a couplea days at least. Let 'em wonder where the fuck we 
are for awhile. We'll sleep in the park, eat junk food, use the johns 
of restaurants where we're not eatin'. We miss a job, it's their 
goddamn fault. Betcha you-know-who doesn't so much as blink when we 
turn up AWOL."

He sat up, nodded, and yanked his hat on.

***

"I bet you're right. I imagine she expects us to leave sooner or later. 
Might as well let her think we've left," said Aya as he proceeded to 
shrug on his shirt.   "Of course, if we had chosen to take our vacation 
in the city, we would have run the risk of them finding us.  Of course, 
that could have been entertaining..."

***

"Yeah, for Schuldich!" Ken spat rather loudly as if the name had left a 
bad taste in his mouth.  He was also distracted enough by his thoughts 
of the meddling telepath to catch his shirt in his fly, and thereby be 
obliged to fight said zipper back open.

"Y'know, if we're goin' to see the Illuminations, why would we wanna 
stay in the PARK when we can turn inta beach bums for a week? We'll buy 
a paira towels when we get there and sleep on the sand..." 

As he retrieved his pocket knife from his jeans, Ken slipped into song.  
Not to mention proceeded to hack off the bottom half of his pant legs.  
"Under the board walk / Down by the seaaaaaaaaaaaa /On a blanket with 
my baby's / Where I'll beeeeeeee.  What? I don't own any shorts, and 
even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't go back to the shop to get 'em."

***

Aya rubbed at the grass stains that now marred the knees of his jeans. 
"Never mind your lack of shorts, I'm more surprised over the fact that 
you've agreed to go North with me. We've never taken any pleasure trips 
together. This should be something of a real adventure." He reached 
over to straighten Ken's collar. "Just don't sing any more." 

Ken attempted to smack his lingering hands away from his neck. Aya 
seized him by the wrist, and pulled until he clambered to his feet. 
Furtively, they both looked around to see who might be watching, but 
found themselves completely alone in the thicket. Hand-in-hand the two 
broke through the line of obscuring shrubs. 

"First the bank, then to Euston station for a timetable. There should 
be a train leaving this afternoon for Blackpool." 

Ken quirked his eyebrows in surprise, a smile dawning on his face. 

"I checked already, okay?" Aya muttered. "I've been wanting to get away 
for some time now."

***

Niji III: "Paint" End

Next Time: Niji IV: "Flash"

*****