Je pense je t'aime...

He was pretty. He was charming. He had shiny hair and lovely eyes. And he hated it. Loathed it. It brought him nothing but dozens of stalkers and random knick knacks that he didn't need. It was the reason for him getting his own appartment. The reason he hadn't told even his sister about his apartment, too.

There was a knock on the door, and he groaned, not moving off of the couch. Of course... no matter how hard I try, certain stalkers will still be able to find me... stupid Torin... He opened his eyes, looking around the small apartment; if he stayed quiet long enough, they would leave.

The only real piece of furnature in the one room apartment was the couch he was sleeping on... there also was a small shelf with assorted items on it, including clothes and books, and a coffee table in the corner. The kitchen included a sink, a fridge, a stove, and no walls to speak off. The only way you knew you were in the kitchen was the sudden change between brown carpet (deffinately not the carpet's original colour) and stained, off-white tile. Really, the only other thing in the apartment was the door to the tiny bathroom - and the showerhead leaked.

But it was cheap. And it was peaceful. And he liked it.

He thought about the small amount of food in his fridge, then thought back to the knocking on the door. I'll give it another few minutes, then I'll go shopping.

For the first time in hours he stood up, meandering his way over to the shelf and pulling on a warm hoodie over the black t-shirt he had on. He thought about putting on a different pair of jeans, but really, who was he trying to impress? The homeless guy on the corner? Oh, that would go over well. Another stalker without trying... and with a knife addiction to boot.

He sighed, and quietly moved to the poor excuse for a kitchen to check the fridge. He cringed when he opened it... it was empty. I could have sworn I at least had some pickles in here... The pickle jar was empty, too.

Deeming it safe, he walked over to the door, fishing his keys out of his pocket as he opened the lock. He looked up as he was about to step outside, and froze.

Standing there, profile semi-sillouetted against the white-wash walls of the third-rate apartment building, was the blond haired, red-streaked, fashion clad, French man of his most terrifying nightmares. Speaking of stalkers...

"Deztiny," the French man smiled at him, impossibly dark eyes glittering in the lamp light. "'Ow are you..?"

"... how do you know where I live..?" Destiny glared at him, one hand planted on the door, and the other on the doorframe. He's not getting in here.

"I'm a meurtrier," he shrugged; Destiny noticed the paper bag in one hand, and the wine bottle in the other... Something smells good.

"A mur-whatsit?" He blinked, bitting his tongue against the delicious smells. Mustn't cave...

"A murderer. An assassin," he rolled his eyes, and took half a step forwards, entering Destiny's personal bubble. "... you never did answer my request..."

"... what request?" He felt slightly intimidated. This French assassin was taller than him; almost half a head taller as he leaned casually against the doorframe... the wine bottle dangled just over both their heads. He could make out 'Cotes du Marmandais' on the dusty label.

"My dîner request," he mumbled out, his accent thicker than normal.

"Oh." It was a rather bland, monosyllabyl reply, and it made the man in front of him chuckle deep in his chest. He frowned. He's enjoying this! Stupid stalker. "I don't even know your name."

"Oh? I'm 'urt," he inched ever closer, whispering in Destiny's ear. "...je m'appel Mörder."

"Mörder, huh?" Destiny backed away, but still blocked off the door. "Well, you should leave."

"Vhy is dat..?" Mörder didn't look discouraged, but did move forwards either. "It's very rude to leave a question unanswered you know."

Destiny looked at the paper bag... that's where the delicious smell was coming from. He thought back to his empty fridge, and then to the long walk to the grocery store. He already knew Mörder could cook. Very well, if his boasts were correct. "... why should I say yes?"

He looked pleased, tilting his head in such a way that his blond hair fell in front of his dark, dark eyes. With a grin, he held the paper bag up for Destiny to take; hesitantly he did, and opened it only to be bombarded with a stronger taste of the same smell.

"You made beef dip..?" He looked up in disbelief; but his mouth was watering, and his stomach loudly spoke out it's opinion.

He chuckled again. "Also, some au jus, real French bread, and garlic butter... dat's asides from de sandwhiches."

"And the wine," Destiny looked up at it again, looming above him. The only thing keeping it out of gravity's grasp were long, pale fingers around the bottle's neck. "... why wine?"

"I told you dere'd be wine," he shrugged casually. "I couldn't find any candles though."

"I haven't said yes."

"Oui," his grin grew slowly against his handsome features. "But you 'aven't said non, either."

He was torn between the pressing need for food, and the pressing need to stay as far away from stalkers as possible. His stomach grumbled once again, and he slowly stepped away from the door to let the assassin in. My sister is a soulless killer, what can an assassin do to me?

Mörder strolled in casually, looking this way and that around the small apartment with an equally small whistle. "You went all out, didn't you..?"

"Shut up," Destiny glared at him, and collasped on on his couch, food-filled bag still in his hands. The assassin rolled his dark eyes again, and dragged the coffee table over so that it sat in front of the couch... then, putting the wine bottle on the coffee table's wooden surface, he disappeared from Destiny's line of sight.

Destiny busied himself with the food, carefully taking it all out, then using the paper bag as a plate to put everything on top of; He was mildly surprised that the beef gravy hadn't spilled, and opened its container. Yet another heavenly smell wafted up to his nose.

"Enjoying yourself..?" Mörder asked, stepping back into view; he was wiping the dust off of two mugs with his pristine white shirt. ... I have cups..? He put both the mugs on the coffee table as well, before sitting on the floor close to Destiny.

"You can sit on the couch you know," Destiny frowned, watching those long, pale fingers as they deftly opened the bottle of Cotes du Marmandais, then poured the rich wine into the mugs.

"Merci, but I am fine," the assassin's grin was still there, and he pulled a small butter knife out of his pocket to spread a slowly melting substance across freshly sliced bread. "Bon appetite."

"Right... bone appetite..." he dunked one of the meaty sandwiches into the beef gravy greedily, and hungrily chewed it down.

It didn't take him long to devour his sandwhich, and then he ate the one that Mörder handed him, too. It was followed by a piece of garlic buttered bread, before he settled down and started concentraiting on what was on hand. Okay... I'm full, which is good. But I have an assassin, who has a crush on me, in my secret apartment. Why do I doubt this will turn out good..?

The assassin in question slowly ate a piece of french bread, a pink tongue darting out to catch any of the garlicked butter sticking to his lips.. and when he was done, he carefully licked the last of it off of his fingertips.

"Vous devriez essayer le vin, Destiny," Mörder muttered, pushing one of the mugs closer towards him.

"Um... what?" Destiny blinked, picking the mug up and holding it between his hands; the wine had a strong smell. I've never really liked wine.

The assassin chuckled, picking up his own mug and taking a deep sip. His dark gaze stayed on Destiny until he finally took a sip of his own mug of wine... he swallowed it quickly, not used to the taste. He took another sip soon after, noting the slightly improved tasted.

"Comme lui?" His blond hair fell into his eyes again, and he leaned against the coffee table casually.

"... you've got to start speaking English..."

"Do you like it?" Mörder chuckled, taking another sip of his wine. "I would have broughten cheese as well, but I thought dat would be corny..."

"It's fine," Destiny shrugged, not really caring. It's not as if it's bad... just not good. He took another sip, and tried to think about what he should do. "You... um... should probably leave now. Thanks for bringing me food, and please don't tell Maria wh-"

"May I please stay a little longer..?"

Destiny breathed, not knowing how to answer... he wanted him to leave, yeah, but Mörder had just brought him dinner. A very good, delicious dinner... damn it. Stupid morals! "... No funny business."

"Nessun promesse," Mörder laughed, leaning back on his hands to keep himself from falling on his back.

Destiny blinked, his head tilting to the side as some of his own black hair fell into his eyes. ...That wasn't French... at least, I don't think it was French... "What language are you speaking..?"

"Hmm?" Mörder was still chuckling as he sat up properly again, a wide grin on his lips. "English mostly... vhy?"

"... you speak languages other than French?" Destiny blinked. Why does this surprise me? He's an assassin, who gets kicks out of taking people out on what they consider romantic dates... more than two languages shouldn't surprise me.

"Oh, Italian, some Spanish," he shrugged. "Russain, German, Greek, and a few other langues... Easier ta track people when you speak deir language."

"So..." Destiny leaned a little closer. "You could say something really goofy to someone, and they would never know..?"

"Ja," Mörder nodded, his grin widening. "Als het roepen van u Turkije!"

Destiny blinked again, frowning; he didn't recognize the language at all. But he still has his French accent. "... what did you say..?"

"I called you a turkey in Dutch," Mörder chuckled. Destiny's frown deepened. "Ah, don't look so sad, mon beau. I can also very sweet t'ings in different languages."

"You mean creepy things," Destiny corrected him automatically.

"Dat depends on 'ow you look at t'ings," Mörder replied, shifting a little closer to him. "Do you find romance 'creepy', Destiny..?"

"Frankly, yes," he rolled his eyes. "What's the point to having people coming and gushing all over you? I don't need to have people fighting for me all the time. Hell, I don't need people bugging me all the time, and following me, and being freaky-stalker-like."

"Well... in the very least, I haven't fought over you, or gushed," Mörder pointed out helpfully; Destiny just glared at him. "Vhat..? I had to follow you and be all 'freaky-stalker-like', otherwize I wouldn't 'ave known you needed food... droit?"

"..." he blinked again, then closed his eyes. Leaning back into the couch, Destiny sighed. "Right... I haven't yelled, I haven't screamed, I haven't insulted... but I can only take so many wise cracks. Maybe you should leave now."

"Vhy?" Mörder's voice was much closer than it should be.

Destiny panicked slightly, jerking farther back into the couch as he opened his eyes; the assassin was standing, bent forwards as he leaned over Destiny to whisper close to his ear. ... how did he do that without me hearing..? "What are you doing..?"

"Asking you a question," Mörder muttered, pulling away just enough so that Destiny could look into his dark eyes properly... up close he could see tiny silver snowflakes near his pupils. "Est-ce que c'est pas bien, mon joli?"

The assassin's voice was husky and deep, and Destiny could feel his pulse speed up ever-so-slightly... Damn it... he's too close. Much, much too close. "You're going to have to speak English..."

He chuckled; Destiny followed the noise with his eyes, finding his gaze falling to Mörder's chest... "I asked if it were alright," the assassin explained. He stood up, his hand lingering down to brush across the corner of Destiny's lips; he glared, and the assassin held up his fingers for him to see the smug of gravy on the tips. "It 'as been bothering me for awhile now."

He sat down beside Destiny, gently pushing the coffee table away with his feet. Destiny fingered the hem of his hoodie, trying not to notice how close Mörder sat, or how he lounged with his feet propped up on the table's wooden surface. He point blank refused to acknowledge that his pulse hadn't slowed down yet.

"Vous semblez énervé..." Mörder hummed, catching Destiny's attenion. How many different ways can this guy speak? It's like... languages within languages.

"That was French," he pointed out; Mörder's grin was back, and the assassin nodded. Destiny couldn't help but grin a little as well... "Right... this might sound stupid... but I have nothing else to do. So teach me to say something in French."

"Really?" Mörder's eyes sparkled with mischief. Destiny was feeling particularily brave when he nodded. "Okay den... say, m'embrasserez."

"Membrasaray," Destiny mimic pitifully; Mörder laughed.

"Non, non, non..." he said through his chuckles. "Mem-braa-sei-rei. Say it slowly. Slowly..."

"Right..." he nodded, feeling determinded. This is completely stupid, I have no fucking clue what I'm saying, but I will do this! "Mem... braa... say... rei..."

"Close, close..." The assassin's grin was back, but softer this time. "Remember dat it's 'sei', not 'say'... but it was close. Now... say vous."

"Vous," he said it perfectly this time, remembering the basic French he had taken back in high school. "So... M'embrasserez vous..?" Haha! I am the grea-

Before he could think really about what he said, Mörder was kissing him.

His back was being pressed against the armrest in an almost painful way. Those long, pale fingers were weaving through his black hair, both pulling him forwards and tilting his head back. Destiny felt that pink tongue push against his lips, and opened his mouth to protest loudly; it backfired, and he found himself pinned against the couch securely from all angles...

The desperate need for air pulled them appart eventually, and Mörder looked down at him with his impossibly dark eyes, a true smile on his lips.

Destiny felt like he was going to explode. "What the hell!?" He struggled against Mörder's grasp, but only succeeded in shifting his weight down so that more of his back laid against the couch cushions.

"I was only doing vhat you asked," the assassin chuckled, leaning down to press butterfly kisses to Destiny's neck. One of his hands travelled down his front, only to start pushing up Destiny's hoodie.

"Once again... The hell!?!"

"M'embrasserez vous..." Mörder whispered against his skin, placing a kiss behind his ear... he felt involuntary shivers shake down his spine, and stuggled more. "It means... 'will you kiss me'..?"

"That was a dirty trick," Destiny tried his best to glare... it didn't work. At all. Mörder just wormed his hand underneath Destiny's t-shirt, his lips moving to the otherside of Destiny's throat.

"Non," the assassin disagreed softly. "A dirty trick would 'ave been to make you say 'avez-vous le sexe avec moi?'..." More shivers snaked through Destiny's body. I don't even know French and I understood that...

He felt his stomach being exposed, and felt the cold air on his skin before Mörder pressed their bodies together. "... you do know..." the French assassin pulled far enough away from Destiny to look into his mis-matched eyes. "Dat with dat other 'and of yours, you could 'ave gotten away by now...?"

His hand wasn't pinned. For that matter, his entire left arm wasn't pinned... and he knew he was strong enough to make Mörder stop, no matter how much taller the assassin was.

And he still didn't move.

"Mon joli..." Mörder muttered. "Je promets que tout sera bien..."

Destiny didn't know what he was being said... didn't really care either. Alls he really knew was that, for one reason or another, he stopped struggling against the assassin's hold. His entire body relaxed, and Mörder's hand moved farther up his torso.

He strained his ears, catching the wet sound Mörder's lips made as they moved toward his collar bone; Both of them were breathing fast and irregular, their chests pushing together at odd intervals. One of them moaned, and Destiny was pretty sure it was himself.

This... isn't good. This should be happening. We're both guys for one thing! Damn it... damn it... damn it...

The assassin stopped moving to sit up on his knees. His weight settled on Destiny's thighs, and he looked down at him with a frown. "Si vous regrettez ceci, je partirai."

Destiny blinked... he'd just went from sensory overload and not being able to think properly, to trying to figure out why he was suddenly very cold after Mörder pulled away. Wait... did he say regret..?

"...why..." it was hard to speak. He wet his lips, watching as Mörder's dark gaze followed his tongue. "... why are you doing this?"

His dark gaze moved back up to Destiny's eyes, dead seriousness etching into his normally serene features. "Mon coeur était cassé, Destiny. Il a été déchiré aux morceaux." He slummed forwards, a sigh escaping his lips as he tore his gaze away from Destiny's. He looks... sad. "Amour partira si je ne l'arrête pas..."

They stayed like that for awhile... a long, long while.

Mörder didn't look back up at him, giving Destiny a long time to look over the taller man's form... how the long sleaved shirt hung off him in an almost teasing way. How the single bracelet he wore dwarfed his entire wrist. How is pants hugged him like a second skin, stretching rather noticably against his-

Fuck, Destiny felt like he should be pancking... but he wasn't really. Not like he should be. Is that..? Damn it! He's fucking turned on!!

"Are you g-going to...?" he hated that there was a tremble in his voice... but if Mörder was going to do what he thought he was going to do...

The assassin growled, and slipped off of the couch. He moved across the small apartment, picking up a trench coat Destiny hadn't noticed before. The black material fit over his tall frame easily, and he headed for the door.

"H-hey!" Shut up you! He's about to leave! "You never answered my question!"

"Yes, I did!" Mörder turned, glaring at him. "I answered it perfectly, you jus' didn' t understand! Besides, it was de wrong question to ask! Vhat really should be asked is vhy you didn't stop any of it!!"

He opened his mouth to yell back at Mörder... but found that he couldn't. Why didn't I stop this..? Why... if I wanted it to stop, why didn't I do something? Why didn't I tell him to stop? He would have stopped. I could have made him stop.

Mörder huffed, reaching to open the door. "Hey! Wait!" ... but Destiny stopped him. With a long, suffering sigh, he faced the couch - and Destiny - once again. Great... now what? "... well... teach me something in Italian..?"

Mörder blinked. "Vhat..?"

"I... well..." Damn it! I was so close! He was about to leave, and I ruined it!! "... teach me something in Italian..."

Destiny looked away, not being able to stand the weight of the assassin's gaze; he heard his soft foot falls coming closer, and heard the rustle of his trench coat hitting the floor. Mörder sat next to him again, lifting Destiny's chin up with his pale fingers.

"Lo," he said simply, lifting up the hem of Destiny's hoodie; he felt like a kid, but he raised his arms up above his head anyways.

"Lo," Destiny repeated. He watched the hoodie fall onto the floor, before looking back up at Mörder expectantly.

"Bacerete," the assassin mumbled. "Ba-sere-ette.."

"Ba-sare-ete."

"Close," his smile came back. "All together now... Lo bacerete..."

"Right..." he guessed what he was saying, and took a long, deep breathe to calm down the last of his nerves. "Lo bacerete..?"

Mörder moved forwards slowly, giving him all the time in the world to pull back... he stayed stalk-still, waiting with a strange, drowsy-like calm that washed over his senses. And then they kissed.

This is strange... he thought; now that he was able to do something, he was curious. ... not strange in a bad way though. Just... strange. I wonder if- Mörder pulled away, re-directing his train of thought. Why did he stop?

"Don't t'ink," the assassin said sharply. He kissed Destiny again, pushing farther this time. Lips, over teeth, over tongue, it all was new to Destiny, and he didn't move as Mörder pressed closer, prying his open his mouth.

Now that he wasn't struggling, Destiny didn't know what to do. Should I kiss him back...? Should I- Mörder pulled away again, nipping at his lower lip as he did. "Didn't I tell you not to t'ink...?"

He moved slowly, his hands gliding over Destiny's limbs. He moved them one by one, until Destiny was lying comfortably on his back, looking up at Mörder with uncertaincy. The blond busied himself with slowly taking off Destiny's shirt, and bent down to press a wet trail on every inch of new skin.

"Why can't I think..?" Destiny asked curiously, trying to ignore te slow tingling in his belly... his blood was slowly moving south, where he could feel his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight.

"If you are t'inking," the assassin exposed his navel, and was distracted for a moment as he circled his tongue around it. "... den, you are not feeling..." He turned his attention back to the rest of Destiny's flesh, his hands still pushing up the black T-shirt.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Feel... okay, I think I can do that. Right... feel. Feel. Fee-! The assassin's long, pale fingers brushed over one of Destiny's sensitive nipples, painting his mind white.

Suddenly, everything was feel, feel, feel. He felt Mörder's tongue as it lavished his skin, now making it's way up over his ribs. He felt his fingers as they lingered over the sensitive pink flesh of his nipples, bringing them to a mock-hardness. And he felt both his and Mörder's erections as the assassin shifted, pushing them together.

And Destiny moaned.

Mörder pulled him back up, crushing their lips together yet again; but it only lasted until Destiny's T-shirt had to be removed... but then the assassin's lips were back again, molding over his own as both of their hands explored each other.

His hands weaved into into Mörder's hair, pulling the assassin closer and closer... but it wasn't close enough. With a sudden shift of his weight, he pushed the assassin to his back, gravity taking both of them to the couch with a soft crash.

He heard Mörder chuckle, and the assassin pushed him away... Destiny pushed back, trying to kiss him again, but Mörder stayed persistant until he pulled away and frowned. "You got me to do this, now let me do this, Frenchie."

"I t'ink I shouldn't be wearing this shirt," he countered, that mischevious glint back in his eyes. "Would you 'elp me..?"

With a little difficulty, they got Mörder's white shirt off. It fell out of sight, and Destiny started attacking his chest with teeth and lips. It was Mörder's turn to moan... it was an intoxicating sound that drove him farther and farther, until Destiny was trying to work the assassin's belt open.

Mörder chuckled, and once again pushed him to a seated possition; he followed soon after, taking his belt off himself. Then he looked at Destiny, his gaze weighed down in lust. "Are you-"

"I'm fairly sure I'm at least partially insane right now," Destiny interrupted him. "So you'd better hurry up, or I'll realize what's happening." The assassin rolled his eyes, before slidding off the couch to kneel in a slowly growing pile of clothes. "... what are you doing..?"

"Getting somet'ing," Mörder hummed out, absently tracing the inside seam of Destiny's jeans... he felt his hairs stand on end, his mind short-circuting for a few moments. He found his trench coat not to far away, and pulled out a bottle.

"What's that..?" Destiny looked at the bottle suspiciously, but his attention was diverted when Mörder's fingers rubbed over the growing bulge in the darker haired teen's pants...

"Dis..?" The assassin chuckled, letting the bottle fall onto the couch as he turned to face Destiny... hooking his long, pale fingers through Destiny's belt loops, he pulled the teen towards him. "... would you like to try..?"

"Try..?" The thought was appealling. So appealling that he nodded.

He watched, transfixed as the assassin took the bottle into his hands, clicking open the cap without a though. Seemingly without thinking, he smeared a gel-like, pinkish liquid onto his fingertips... then he held them up to Destiny's lips.

Breath catching in his throat again, he opened his lips and allowed the pale digits to evade his mouth... he was bombarded with a tangy sweet taste. Mmm... cherry. He shut his eyes, drawing Mörder's fingers farther into his mouth with his tongue.

He felt Mörder unbutton his jeans, and dragged his teeth across the assassin's knuckles as he undid the zipper... then the fingers were pulled away from him, the wet skin moving down his chest. ... what is he doing..?

"Mörder..." I did not just sound whiny... I did not just sound whiny... Mörder grabbed the hem of Destiny's jeans, tugging on them and his boxers at the same time. Taking the hint, he lifted his hips to allow the material to slid down past his knees.

"Deztiny," Mörder drawled out, running his hands up and down Destiny's bare legs.

"What are you-"

"Don't t'ink," the blond breathed, leaning forwards... Destiny wondered for a moment what he was doing, before he felt the assassin's lips close around his erection.

The world around him slowly started to blur... pictures stopped making sense to his mind. The only thing there, the only thing real, was the slick, wet heat drawing him in farther, farther, farther... he was dimly aware of a hand on his hip, massaging his sweat-soaked skin.

He wasn't sure how or when he did it, but his hands were burried in the assassin's blond hair, pulling him closer. Mörder responded by pulling him farther into his mouth and deeper into his throat; it made Destiny's head roll back on his shoulders and moan loudly to the ceiling.

The hand on his hip left, and Destiny tried to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing... but before he could attempt an answer, both of the assassin's hands were back on his hips. Mörder's tongue lapped across the underside of Destiny's erection as those long, pale fingers groped their way over his ass, and pushed into his tight opening...

...then Destiny realised what the gel-stuff was for.

It was almost painful, but the slicked finger felt cool against any potential pain. Whenever Destiny did hiss or grumble in the slightest, the assassin would pull back far enough to drop a loving kiss on his head before excitedly going back to the task at hand... at hand, or at mouth..? Gah, thinking...

Another slicked finger pushed inside of him, reaching for some secret little thing; And Destiny knew when he found it. The entire apartment building probably knew, from the sudden, almost-scream that was torn from his lips. Mörder just hummed - making him moan again - and found that little secret again, sending Destiny straight into a tidal wave of sentation.

Caught between two pleasures, he didn't know what to do: Push forwards into that hot, sweet cavern of a mouth that was making his eyes roll to the back of his skull, or lean back into those oh-so-talented fingers that again and again found that sweet spot inside of him, making him moan non-stop.

Those talented fingers touched that spot again, sending him over the brink. In half a second the world ended and started anew, leaving Destiny spent, and strangly calm.

He tried not to whine when Mörder let go of him, leaving him sitting there mostly-naked on the couch... instead he waited for his mind (and vision) to clear, then looked to where Mörder was still kneeling on the ground.

His heart almost stopped.

The assassin's chest strained under the rapid movements of his lungs, sweat carassing every dip of pale, pale skin. An adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed the fruits of his blissful labour, and his eyes... his eyes were, undoubtably, filled with a lust that Destiny had never seen before.

Taking the bottle with him, Mörder stood up to loom over Destiny a moment... his member throbbed with the denial of release, and Destiny couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation of what might happen next.

Mörder laid him down on his back, joining him moments later as he kissed his collarbone and nibbled on his neck. It made him sigh, shutting his eyes as he just waiting for whatever the assassin did next. He could already feel himself growing harder.

"...Mörder..." he mumbled out, before the assassin's lips were over his again. He traced the blond's spine with his fingertips, feeling the shudder as his hand drifted over a tight ass. ...would he enjoy that as much as I did..?

He didn't need an answer to the unasked question. In relatialion, Mörder just kissed him even more thouroughly, his pink tongue moving over Destiny's teeth before battling with his own tongue. And then he felt it... a hot, slick hardness pushing where, so far, only those long, pale fingers had been.

Destiny didn't pull away, as he thought he would have if ever facedw with this situation. Instead, he found his legs wrapping around the blond's waist, urging him closer.

Mörder drawed out of the kiss, dropping a butterfly kiss to Destiny's head. "Je suis désolé, mon joli..." He barely had time to blink before the assassin lurched forwards. All he knew was pain.

It was white hot against his spine, but it was accompanied by a strange wholeness that destiny couldn't deny that he enjoyed... Mörder continued dropping butterfly kisses on his skin, trying to ease the pain as he waiting for Destiny to be ready.

It didn't take long... soon enough the pain didn't matter, he just wanted the pleasure sooner. He wanted to feel again. And Mörder made him feel.

He pushed up as best as he could' he sent a jold of pleasure through his body, so he did it again. The assassin moved too now, with slow, shallow strokes that were bound to Destiny begging for more in no time.

"Mörder..." he knew he sounded whiny that time, but didn't care. Anything to improve perfection. "... harder..."

The blond responded by pulling almost completly out of his body, before slamming back in as fast as he could... Destiny groaned, feeling his toes curl as his vision went white... the next time, Mörder hit that spot in side of him, and he screamed.

There was no third time.

A sticky, white substance shot up in his release, covering both of their chests. Destiny panted, holding Mörder tightly with arms and legs... he didn't want to let the moment go. Not yet.

The assassin managed to get away anyways, pulling out of Destiny's body and leaving him strangly cold. He sat back on his heels, looking down at him with his impossibly dark eyes.

Destiny breathed deeply. Okay... it's over now. Now what? "... what do you want?"

Mörder sighed, leaning down to lap up some of the cooling liquid on his chest; he tried to ignore the feelings it invoked, and watched as Mörder pulled away again. This time he left the couch.

"I wasn't stalking you, ya know," the assassin muttered, finding his boxers that Destiny hadn't remembered him removing. In fact, he though Mörder wasn't wearing any underwear. "I have a job a few doors down... I actually only came ta tell you dat you might wanna move your 'iding place, as this apartment will be all over the map soon."

"So... this..." he tried not to feel hurt. It's just because I'm still hungry... yeah... "... this meant nothing to you..?"

"It meant more ta me den it did to you," Mörder huffed out, now buckling up his belt. He was very fast at getting dressed. Almost as fast as he was at getting undressed. "And dat's not saying much... wouldn't be surprised if you were t'inking 'bout your 'Dearest' Torin the entire time."

"Dearest..?" Destiny blinked, watching as he slipped his shirt on next, then found his shoes. "I... no... you've got that wrong-"

"Oui, maybe," Mörder sounded angry... but whether he was angry at himself or angry at Destiny, he didn't know. "But dere be a difference from de fun dat you needed to 'ave tonight, and vhat I actually wanted to happen. And I'm not foolish enough to believe dat I'll get vhat mon coeur wants."

"Your... what..?" I suddenly have a desire to go buy a French-English Dictionary...

"Heart, Deztiny, my heart." Grabbing his trench coat, and stalked to the front door... he paused when he reached to door frame. "... tell me now if I'm actually making a miztake."

Destiny wanted to answer... actually wanted to tell him to stay. To forget about whatever job it was that he had to do. To tell him that he wasn't right, and that he hadn't wanted it to end. To tell him that he wouldn't regret anything...

... but he didn't. And Mörder left.

Owari

Authors Note: This is dedicated to Niwa Sakura, for her birthday... happy belated bithday, Niwa-sama! Also, rough translations can be found at