What is it with this story and its long chapters, eh? I mean, I even cut a shitload out from this one and it still wound up being thirty freaking pages in the original document! (That’s thirty pages, size eight Times New Roman font, people. And that font’s pretty feckin’ tiny. I mean, there are certainly smaller, but still… Jesus!) That having been said, sorry for the nine month – and some – wait, I hope you all enjoy, and I really do apologize if this chapter is… well, horrendously schizo. XD Enjoy, now! Be sure to leave me a nice review when you’re done! –cackles and prods you with stick-

In Harm's Way

-Chapter Four-

-x-

“Grim, all I’m asking of you is that you please at least make an effort to act like a reasonable adult today.”

“I usually do act like a reasonable adult.”

“Not yesterday you weren’t.”

“Yesterday was different. I was in a bad mood.”

“I think that should go without saying, but thank you all the same for reminding me.”

“Well then you can just kiss my nationalistic Scottish ass, Vincent.”

“I believe I’ll decline for now, thank you again. And what was that that I’d been saying about acting like an adult?”

Derisively sighing as he breezily brushed a stray lock of black-tipped hair from his eyes, Vincent found himself utterly incapable of ignoring the muffled snort that resonated from the Scotsman close at his side. Pulling in a long, slow breath as he slipped through the door to the boardroom – bidding his patience to remain intact – he found himself abruptly freezing where he stood when his gaze alit on the Australian hunched over the conference table, face buried in motionless bronze hands.

A peculiar sense of concern washed over him just then, burrowing deeply into his chest with invasive, probing fingers as he brushed past the albino lingering near the doorway with barely even a cursory glance. Striding briskly across the silent room to the statuesque redhead, Vincent found himself utterly apathetic when he realized Grim had paused beside Jasper, his hands tucked with a nonchalant dignity into the pockets of his black slacks. By and large he’d give the notion no more than a passing, if slightly annoyed, thought, given how the two seemed to be interested in nothing other than flirting when in one another’s company, but now… If those two wanted to flirt, bully for them.

He, personally, was more worried about Xeraph – the invincible, indestructible, cold/flu/epidemic-defying Xeraph currently looking as though he were ready to simply keel over and die any second now.

“Are you all right?” Despite Vincent’s inquiry having come in a decisively soft whisper, he could tell that the sudden noise was rather less than appreciated; the demon flinched only minutely beneath Vincent’s touch as he laid a palm lightly on his broad, stooped shoulder. His voice remained in a muted murmur as he leaned down in an attempt to steal a glimpse of the Aussie’s face and slowly lowered himself to the seat beside him. “You don’t look well – is something wrong?”

Ever so slowly, the tension knotting the muscles in Xeraph’s shoulder melted away, leaving nothing behind but an empty weariness – seeping with a cold malevolence into the very bones of Vincent’s hand – as the demon rubbed his face. “It’s nothing,” he tiredly mumbled, the thickness of his voice betraying the potent medication throbbing through his bloodstream. “Just a headache, really.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Vincent’s complete lack of conviction only intensified when Xeraph’s face finally lifted itself from his hands. Dark semi-circles bruised the flesh beneath his eyes, and where once vibrant flames seemed to dance within his slit irises, all that remained were dull, pained embers; his entire countenance was ashen and sickly-looking, his charismatic smile carried weakly on pale, chapped lips. “It really doesn’t look like it,” he wryly amended, just the slightest of grimaces rising into his expression.

Sweet Jesus, what in the name of all that was good and tolerable had happened to him?!

“Bad headache,” the fire demon frailly allowed with a compliant arch of his brows. He wet his lips and leaned his forehead into the palm of his hand once more with a groaning breath, bruised lids slipping shut. “But I’ve certainly felt worse.”

“I’m sincerely compelled not to believe you, Xeraph,” Vincent dryly muttered. A tiny furrow took to deepening in his brows as the demon’s unusual presence finally registered. “Wait, what are you doing here, anyways? I thought you were supposed to have today off.”

“Max telephoned this morning saying that there was something he had to discuss with all four of us. Bastard switched things up, after all,” the demon finished with a feeble grin. “Gotta admit I’d rather been looking forward to staying home and sleeping today.”

“I’ll bet. Do you have any idea what it is that he needs to discuss with us?”

“Not in the slightest. Not aside from what vague details he told me over the phone, anyways,” the demon hoarsely amended in a weary grumble. “Which, I suppose, may as well have been nothing for all the good they were.”

-x-

“I tried to convince him to stay home, y’know – that I would take care of whatever needed to be done here… Said he wouldn’t have it,” Jasper murmured with a small shrug of his narrow shoulder, his smoky black lids fluttering only slightly as he folded his hands behind his back.

“No surprise there.” Observing with meditatively arched brows as the albino mutely ran his lower pierced lip through his teeth, toying with the stud embedded in the right corner of his mouth, Grim stole a fleeting glimpse of Graves perched at the redhead’s side, his head cocked and a hand lightly shifting to soothingly rest on the man’s back. It wasn’t below him to notice the trivial twinge of jealousy that poked at the buttons of a more malicious, possessive man within him; despite the fact that he knew the attempt would fail miserably, he tried his very best to tune out the quiet, abrasive snort he could hear echoing plaintively throughout his thoughts.

“Aye…” He allowed after a time, forcibly prying his gaze from the two men, engaged in soft conversation and dry, muted smiles. He was not going to get jealous; he was not going to get jealous… He. Was. Not. “He doesn’t look too hot at all.” And he most certainly did not just hear a vein of satisfaction in there! “What happened?”

Jasper ceased nibbling on his lip and shot a lingering glance at him from the corner of his unnerving crimson irises before returning them to their partners. “I don’t know,” he whispered, his gaze distant and his face carrying the brands of too many emotions for Grim to pick any one of them out with a great deal of success. “He just came home with this terrible migraine last night. Didn’t even bother to tease me before he just went to bed and conked out.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Grim shot the demon a speculative look as a single large, snowy white ear – adorned with numerous rings and brightly colored studs – absently flicked. “This whole… not teasing thing?”

“It’s kind of the norm for us. He teases, I try to come back with witty retorts… I don’t know. It’s just the way we operate, I guess.” Jasper dismissed the notion with another simple shrug, the feline ears that had decided to make their appearance for the day instinctively twitching towards him as he replied with a deep hum before returning to monitor the audio of their surroundings.

Among which, Grim could safely bet, happened to be the soft, breathy bits of conversation passing between Graves and Xeraph.

Seems he wasn’t the only one suffering a bit beneath the influence of the green-eyed monster. With another brief peek he caught the fleeting pout that formed on Jasper’s lips before it was smoothly wiped away. Seems he wasn’t the only one wishing to be in the place of the other’s partner, either. Go figure.

Shoulders wilting with a carefully muted sigh, Grim turned a thoughtful corner-of-the-eye glance to the petite albino at his side, his gaze remaining keenly hooked on the demon’s figure when he realized just what it was that Jasper was wearing. He had to admit, he was rather ashamed of himself for not noticing earlier, because… God. The sight of Jasper simply standing there, arms folded lazily across his abdomen… It lit his mind afire with desire, made his mouth water…

‘You let me violate you,
You let me desecrate you,
You let me penetrate you,
You let me complicate you.’

And the music pulsing through the single bud plugged into his ear certainly wasn’t helping matters.

Glistening vinyl pants hugged long, taut legs with the intimacy of a second skin – particularly without loosening around a slight, firm arse, Grim attentively noticed – while a breezy white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to Jasper’s elbows, lay open to reveal the UV purple mesh sucking to the demon’s torso beneath. Numerous necklaces of all sorts hung about Jasper’s throat to compliment the mess of rainbow bracelets on his wrists and the rings in his feline ears. Even the balls for the piercings in the albino’s left nostril, left cheek, right brow and the corners of his lower lip had been exchanged for plastic beads of a more colorful variety.

‘Help me,
I broke apart my insides.
Help me,
I've got no soul to sell.
Help me,
The only thing that works for me.
Help me get away from myself.’

Grim felt a discreet grin jump onto an edge of his mouth when he sent a fleeting glance down to the long, thick white tail protruding from beneath the hem of Jasper’s shirt, idly swaying and coiling around his shapely legs while time passed. Huh. Should’ve seen that coming. The two broad gold rings the demon habitually wore around the end of his tail had been switched for a band of rainbows. If I didn’t know any better I’d think dear Jasper was intending to hit one of the all-day underground raves instead of work when he got dressed this morning.

‘I want to fuck you like an animal,
I want to feel you from the inside.
I want to fuck you like an animal,
My whole existence is flawed.
You get me closer to god.’

Torn from the heady ocean of his thoughts when his body realized exactly what kind of images the lyrics from his earpiece were giving birth to – all of which revolving around a writhing, naked white body beneath his own, a hot blush and needy crimson eyes – Grim rapidly blinked and gave his head a clarifying shake. Before the song could progress any further he plucked the bud from his ear, turned off the mp3 player in his pocket and spitefully stuffed the cord in with the rest of the contraption where it belonged.

And more to the point… where it wouldn’t distract him. Or prompt him to suddenly molest a very suggestible, very vulnerable and promiscuously-clad cat-boy who happened, he noticed, to be in perfect range for some… “mature physical inspection.”

Within the depths of his mind, Grim saw himself in vibrant detail cornering the young man – albeit still older than himself, he begrudgingly admitted – against the wall where he stood, pinning his rainbow-bound wrists above his head while another hand strayed to invasively caress one of those fine, vinyl-clad cheeks. He saw Jasper’s pretty face lolling to the side in vulgar euphoria as his fingers wandered into the intimate places of lovers and his lips trailed along a long, pale neck…

Clearing his throat with a somewhat exaggerated decisiveness, Grim kept his hands stuffed neatly in his pockets where they held a slim chance of doing any damage as his gaze – totally against his will, however – went for another appreciative, yet tactful stroll down Jasper’s limber body. And in his mind, a more sane and collected version of himself sighed, pinched the bridge of its nose, and shook its head at his perverse greater body’s complete and total lack of discipline.

Note to self: Never listen to that song ever again in Jasper’s presence. Never. Deep cobalt irises slid to the tail idly curling behind the demon. Especially not when he’s partially changed. God only knows what kind of hell that’s likely to unleash. A heavy sigh escaped in his mind as he forced himself to focus. The only downside to waking up in an excessively good mood…

-x-

“I was just being an impulsive twat again, that’s all,” Xeraph mumbled as he ran his hands over his face and leaned his forehead into the crook of his fingers with a hushed groan.

“I’d say so,” Vincent agreed with a frank snort. “Downright stupid if you ask me to just randomly read a stranger’s mind for the sole purpose of satisfying some passing fancy when you already know what it does to you.” Pausing as he realized the harsh, scolding tone that had taken to his voice, he cocked his head lightly to the side and took in his ex-partner’s face once more. Down, boy, his thoughts soothingly murmured to their frazzled nerves. The last thing he needs right now is you mothering him like a cranky old nursemaid.

Xeraph’s eyes, so commonly ablaze with the tiny flames within his irises, had become tamer beneath the mantle of the ache weighing over them so palpably. It was something Vincent had never fully realized until then, until that mystical spark was lacking, just how entrancing those eyes were when wholly afire. There was something so honest about them, and yet so guarded; something kind, yet just barely masking the sharp wit of the demon’s Machiavellian mind.

There was nothing even remotely Machiavellian about the man now, however. Only tired, sore, and in patently desperate need of some heavier medication, a dark room, and a good solid day’s worth of sleep.

Well… and perhaps a little bit of mothering. A little bit never hurt anyone, right?

A sympathetic furrow took to Vincent’s brows when Xeraph’s bruised lids winced shut beneath the assault of his migraine, and a frail, pained groan escaped – unwillingly, most likely, knowing Xeraph – from his throat.

“Xeraph,” he whispered, softening his voice yet further as his hand gently closed over the demon’s shoulder again with a compassionate squeeze. “You’re not well. Go home. I’m sure Jasper is more than capable of taking care of business here.”

“I’m fine, Vincent,” Xeraph firmly muttered, his attempt to convince the Englishman an utter failure when he hissed in a long breath and pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes with a hushed curse.

“You’re stubborn, Xeraph, and that’s about it – even more stubborn than a bloody jackass, now that I think about it,” he casually corrected himself in a mumble. When all he received from the man was a forced chuckle, the ghost of his usual grin, Vincent rolled his eyes with an impatient snap of his tongue, an irritated sigh, and continued. “Go home,” he dryly insisted. “If the need arises, Grim and I can drop Jasper off when we’re finished.”

“Vincent, really…”

“Oh, so you managed to make it after all, Pyrite. Good, good.”

Tearing his gaze from his ex-partner’s drawn façade, Vincent looked towards the door just in time to see Maxwell Cervantes close it behind him, inclining his head in greeting with a sociable grin towards Grim and Jasper. There were files tucked under his arm, he noticed, and there was something about the mood lingering about the CEO in a thick cloud that made Vincent’s stomach twist with suspicion.

Speaking of Machiavellian minds…

Those dim irises pulled themselves up from the masking barricade of Xeraph’s hands as he forced a light, cheeky grin. “Takes more than a headache to keep me bed-ridden, sir.”

A lop-sided, faintly contrite smile came to the executive’s lips. “I apologize for calling you in on your day off, but I needed you in here; if there were anything else I could have done, you can be assured that I would have done it, but...” Maxwell shrugged only slightly as he continued to the head of the table with a confident gait, and turned his attention to the others once Xeraph had answered with an excusing lift of his palm and only the slightest inclines of his head. “In any case… Boys, I hope you’re well-rested, because we’ve got some reviewing to do. If you’d be so kind as to take a place at the table…”

Giving the red-haired fire demon one last sympathetic squeeze of his shoulder as Vincent pushed himself up from his seat, he couldn’t help the half-smile that vaguely pulled at his lips when those weary pools of fire turned up to him with a frail, grateful flicker. As his fingertips lightly trailed away from the smooth fibers of the Australian’s suit jacket, he forced his mind to concentrate on the business at hand, to focus on each one of his steps as he strode around the table to settle himself in a seat next to Grim.

Against his will, however, his eyes still somehow managed to find their way back to Xeraph’s wilted figure as the demon attempted to right himself, straightening against the tall back of the leather chair. Dark lids fluttered shut, as though even such a seemingly simple task sent dizzying, disorienting waves of discomfort washing through the Australian’s head.

Don’t black out on me, Xeraph. You know I’ll have kittens if you do.

Within moments however, the proud, nigh indestructible man he’d known throughout the course of their partnership returned. The sheen of pain in his irises remained, as did the pallor of his bronze flesh and the dark circles beneath his eyes, but somewhere beyond all of that, Vincent could see Xeraph struggling to put his profession before personal issues – just like he always had.

And it was in that brief moment that Vincent realized with a weary, wistful amusement, how some things never changed.

-x-

He was staring at Xeraph again. For the briefest of moments, those dark orbs would tear themselves from the Australian’s figure only to flick back an instant later. All right, so the Englishman was worried about him; that was perfectly understandable, given that he looked like absolute shite – again, no vein of smug satisfaction whatsoever – but still… There was no denying the slightest vice of envy that constricted around his chest every time he caught his partner watching the man from the corners of his eyes.

“Now then, if I could have your attention, gentlemen…” Maxwell Cervantes lightly cleared his throat as the conference room lights dimmed and a blown up image of the Museum they’d spent the night watching what already seemed like weeks ago flared up on the screen at the head of the table. And unless his mind was deceiving him, he could have sworn he heard Vincent quietly hiss beneath his breath.

I don’t know what he’s hissing about, Grim’s thoughts flatly mumbled to themselves. I actually rather enjoyed that job. Granted, mostly because I had an excuse to… His mind tumbled away into a bottomless abyss the instant Vincent pulled the curtain of bleached hair away from the single side of his neck that Grim was able to see around the chair, leaving that smooth, pale appendage naked to his hungrily roving eyes. Oh, god. Swallowing back the arid barricade that had suddenly erected itself within his esophagus, he forced himself to remain still, to refrain from and smother his desire to reach out and gently caress that smooth flesh, to trail hedonistic kisses down his partner’s porcelain throat.

Why? Because quite frankly he was in far too good of a mood today to have it ruined by a swift slap to the face – that was why.

Heaving a downtrodden sigh beneath his breath, he settled back in his chair as Maxwell began to review information that felt like they’d already examined thrice over. Sheer reiteration… Guards come full circle ‘round the property every so long… Cameras set up at regular intervals around the building, with only a few blind spots that would be taken full advantage of… Xeraph asks a question, Vincent curtly elaborates in reply…

Blah… blah… blah. He was oddly reminded of Charlie Brown’s teacher. As a matter of fact, he may as well have been in the very same bleedin’ cartoon for all the similarities there were.

Within moments, he felt as though he was mere seconds away from drifting off to sleep. Still images flashed over the screen every now and then while Cervantes stood nearby with a laser pointer and remote for the projector affixed to the ceiling, appearing as prim and professional as ever in his silver suit with meticulously pale skin that caught and held the meager light like a beacon within the shadows of the room. Carefully managed, rusty blonde hair was, for today, smoothed back from the emerald-eyed man’s porcelain countenance. And for only a second within the drifting void of his thoughts did he allow himself to recognize how painfully identical to a mannequin their employer appeared at times.

He was almost without a doubt that if someone were to put Maxwell Cervantes in the window of a high-end suit shop and tell him to remain perfectly still, he would easily deceive most people into thinking that he was part of the original display.

Come to think of it… That made for a rather disturbing comparison in Grim’s mind, that someone could resemble something so cold, so engineered and modified to embody perfection.

Then again, Grim’s mind was, for the time being, unable to focus on anything other than things one ought not to focus on during a board meeting. Like his partner’s neck – how badly he wanted to feel the acerbic Englishman’s flesh beneath his fingers – and Jasper’s… Well, to be quite frank: everything. Everything that even remotely pertained to the albino seemed to be attracting his attention today.

Without fully realizing it, Grim’s gaze began to wander from the place on the screen where they’d been distantly focused, slipping with a nonchalant grace across the tabletop to sneak a subtle peek at the young man. He couldn’t resist the tiny smile that came to his lips when he saw the albino leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the table and long fingers absently brushing a pierced corner of his soft, kissable white mouth. Darkened garnet irises – a dilated slit of pure ebony marking their centers – lingered distractedly on the screen, just as Grim’s had, before they sharpened, and lethargically turned to their corners to lock gazes with him.

He grinned, and shot the demon a playful wink; Jasper replied with a thoughtfully flirtatious smile of his own, just barely masked beyond his lightly caressing fingertips.

Write it up to sexual frustration, but in that moment – given Vincent’s obvious lack of interest – Grim wanted nothing more than to kiss those smooth hands of Jasper’s, to feel the pads of his fingers against his lips as well as the sumptuous flesh of the albino’s mouth. He wanted nothing more than to have the slender young man alone in a secluded room where he would have the freedom to peel away those tempting clothes from the demon’s ashen skin, to hold his outwardly delicate body in his arms and fervently kiss his naked shoulder…

Of course god knew what else he wanted to do, but if he spent even the briefest of seconds lingering on that particular train of thought he would certainly drive himself bloody well mad. That wasn’t something he really needed, nor wanted, just then. And he was certain that neither of their partners nor the CEO would much appreciate his barreling over the board table like he’d lost his mind to pin an innocent cat-demon to the floor or the table itself to ravish him half to death. He had to admit that it made for a rather amusing spectacle, though, even if it were only in his head.

Aye, amusing it was, indeed… albeit this was not enough to nullify the fact that it was nonetheless not only something that intensified his frustration, but was immensely, immensely depressing as well.

There wasn’t much point in openly admitting it to himself, but he longed – down to the very depths of his being, truth be told – to be able to touch another, to be able to kiss their lips knowing that it was more than just a hollow, one-sided expression of intimacy. He craved the sensation of naked flesh against his own, of tangled limbs and a blinding, all-consuming passion…

And when a small fold of paper skittered into a collision with the back of his arm, Grim’s uncommonly wistful reverie fell to pieces around him. Blinking the remnants of his fantasy from his eyes, he shot a brief glance down at the tiny note before his gaze swung up to meet with Jasper’s grinning irises; a pen was balanced in his long, delicate fingers as he rested his cheek on them.

Flirty little thing ye are today, arencha sweet’art? A minute smirk came to Grim’s lips as he palmed the note and thumbed it open. Then again, who’m I to complain?

‘You look good today, Grim – even though it kind of seems like you’re borderline comatose. Bored much?’

The smirk minutely widened as Grim retrieved his own pen from a hidden pocket in his jacket, clicked out the nub, and left-handedly bent to reply. ‘You have no idea, sweetheart. But thank you, all the same. Have to admit you’re looking rather… edible yourself today.’ Silently setting aside his pen and deftly folding the paper once more within his palm, he sent it flying with a single snappish flick of the wrist across the polished surface of the board table. Xeraph’s fiery irises flitted to their corners to send him a brief, inquiring glance – only to be replied with an innocently lop-sided grin – before they returned to the head of the table where Cervantes continued his run-over of their information.

Catching a glimpse of Jasper’s garnet eyes flickering towards him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, Grim settled his chin in his left hand as he leaned his elbow on the armrest, his right fingers idly tapping a silent tune on the table until they opened to receive the albino’s hurriedly scrawled reply.

‘Why thank you, Grim! I’m glad to see you like my outfit. I’m pretty sure some part of me had you in mind when I chose it. -wink-’

‘Oh… really now?’ A single brow languidly arched, and the smirk blossoming upon his lips widened as he continued. ‘And why was that, I wonder…?’

He swore, the blush that casually bloomed in the albino’s cheeks just then… the mere sight of it, even in this darkened room, made his veins throb maddeningly beneath his flesh, pumping scalding blood through his body when Jasper glanced up at him from beneath dark lashes with wanton eyes, his ears cocked only slightly back and to the sides. And suddenly, he found he couldn’t tolerate the display of the demon’s bared neck as he bent his head to reply; the sight of his colorless hand moving as it wrote and the spectacle of his doubly pierced lip running itself through his teeth was nigh unbearable.

Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Grim couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Seconds passed in the guise of minutes until he absently found his fingers curling over that note once more, gazes locked over the table as Jasper laid his arms on the polished surface and rested his chin amongst them.

In that very instant, Grim saw nothing else save the demon’s naked form sprawled amongst mussed bed sheets, his arms folded just the way they were now, only with an expression of utmost lust on his countenance; his bare back arching upwards until his full white tail could curve into the air, twining down around the legs setting him in such a perfect position to…

Yanking himself back into reality with a hard, tight shake of his head, Grim was powerless against the slight humoring grin that came to him when he saw Jasper’s own laughing gaze, his shoulders vibrating with muted giggles. God damn, he really needed to get a hold on that mind of his before he did something… well, publicly inappropriate.

Not to mention it was causing him far more frustration than he needed right now.

Focusing the tattered remnants of his concentration on the note he’d been clutching in his hand, he smoothed it out against his palm with his thumb and internally cringed when his eyes alit on the albino’s writing. ‘I had a dream about you last night. Don’t know where it came from, but I’m not going to lie… It was a good dream, Grim. A very good dream. Probably doesn’t help that… well, Sparky figures I’m going into heat again. –blush-’

Something’s out to get me today, I swear it. His mind mumbled, using every last ounce of its will to prevent it from tottering into that lusting black abyss all over again. Of all the things the bawdy little albino could have said – and did say – it just had to be that. Why? Why? Was God truly capable of holding such a foul grudge against – Well, all things taken into consideration, Grim supposed there was no possible way that a single human being could embody more of a contrast to innocence and piety than himself. After all, he was hardly what one could call devout.

Most of the time he was lucky to be even barely considered moral, much less saintly – and come to think of it, he was more than certain that he preferred things as they were, regardless of the fact that he was more than likely doomed to fester in the deepest pits of hell for all eternity because of it. After all, were he even minutely bound by religion – no matter its origins – he would have felt far more guilt than he did for imagining such lewd circumstances involving that delectable, wanton little lynx sitting across the table.

God, what he wouldn’t give to simply slip under the table just then, crawl over to Jasper’s long legs and kiss the most secret parts of his body. What he wouldn’t have sacrificed to merely touch the tip of his tongue to that pale appendage hiding away in the demon’s slick vinyl pants, just to see that expression of unrivalled bliss on Jasper’s face.

And he would have forsaken everything that he knew, everything that he owned, just to spend one night with Graves the way he could only dream of. Alas, even there, within the depths of his wildest fantasies, he was denied.

Hell… who’m I joking? I don’t even have dreams.

Uncomfortably aware of the darkness looming just outside the boundaries of his withered heart, Grim lightly cleared his throat and stalwartly commanded the mist that had suddenly taken to his eyes to depart; forcing his mind to focus once again on Jasper’s writing, he found himself capable of feeling only a sliver of the same sensual excitement that he’d encountered before. It seemed grayer now, that notion, inadvertently eclipsed by the intensity of his one true desire before everything was devoured by the gloomy twilight of his nightmares.

Thankfully, they’d been tamer last night than they’d been the night before he’d beaten his knuckles raw on a brick wall; he idly flexed one of his bandaged hands, taking careful note of each tug and tear of the scabs marking the flesh beneath the dressings.

And speaking of dreams… Allowing his thoughts to sigh only softly, Grim turned his attention for the last time to Jasper’s writing. Scribbling an internally half-hearted reply, forcing his words to sound light – even a wee bit provocative – he shot a fleeting cobalt glance up to the head of the table, training his gaze on Cervantes for only a moment longer until the blonde turned his back to look up at the screen before Grim sent the note on its merry skittering way.

Jasper barely had time to peel the paper open before Cervantes’ flat, unenthused voice forcibly seized their attention – and in a steel fist, no less – as it trailed away from its speech. “And while it relieves me to no end to see that we’re all of a mature and professional disposition in here, my only request – much as I do loathe playing the part of the petulant teacher – is that you two kindly postpone the Olympic note-chucking until after the debriefing.” Neither of them were given a chance to speak up before Cervantes continued, his palms lightly pressed together before him and a subtly vexed smile on his lips, “Unless, of course, you are indeed comparing work-related notes and are simply attempting to exercise your courtesy by not directly interrupting me?” Fine brows rose as one to the sardonic inquiry; hazy emerald irises jumped curiously between Grim and the wide-eyed albino.

Their respective partners were, of course, peering back at them by now, their own gazes level, dark, and silently reprimanding. Or, in Graves’ case, Grim supposed… completely and totally fed up. Muttering curses and inquiries to a higher power under his breath in his mind, and all that – in other words, one might as well say Vincent’s usual and be done with it.

“Sorry, sir.” Grim spoke up into the silence with a half-made grin. “Just debating with Endo over there what he thinks the best exit route would be for a job like this one.”

“Well, as I was about to mention… You, Mr. Reaper,” Cervantes pointed out with a cock of his head, his expression betraying nothing but a cool, unwavering patience, “and Graves have no need to discuss the matter further with anyone because from this point on the job belongs to Pyrite and Endo.”

“What?!” Simultaneously, Grim’s, Vincent’s, and Xeraph’s equally taken aback voices burst into the air. Were it not for the sheer shock running through his veins, Grim would have found the coincidental timing rather amusing – as well as the odd cacophony created by the abrupt mingling of their Scottish, English and Australian accents.

And the instant that Vincent’s lips had a chance to part even an inch, murky brown eyes livid above the flush marring his pale cheeks, their employer calmly inclined his head and lifted but a single, silencing palm. A deep hush fell over the room just then, and Grim was utterly incapable of taking his eyes from the man even when he serenely tugged out another one of the lavish leather chairs, plucked open the button on his suit jacket, and sat down, placidly entwining his fingers on the tabletop.

Glittering emerald irises regarded them all in that somber, strangling moment, before quietly turning to Xeraph and Jasper’s side of the table. “Pyrite, Endo,” their employer coolly began, “if you could please rejoin me at two PM sharp, I’ll bring you up to date on your new objectives. Until then, you two are dismissed.” Those tranquil orbs slid to Vincent and Grim. “Graves, Mr. Reaper, I would like to speak to you about your new assignment alone.”

With but a tiny, deft nod of the CEO’s fair head towards the door, Xeraph silently rose and tucked his seat in before leaving the room; Jasper, always obedient, followed shortly thereafter in his partner’s wake. Nonetheless, sensing Grim’s trailing gaze the albino looked back only briefly to mouth an apology, ears folded down upon his snowy hair, before his colorful form slipped out through the door – rainbow bangles and all – and disappeared.

Grim’s abruptly heavy mind dragged itself back to the matter at hand, his good mood dropping to a considerably lower, less enthusiastic level. If he took us off of that job because he caught me… I’m dead. More than dead, actually. I’ll find myself in me very own private ring in hell before the morning’s out.

Oh yes, Vincent’s glare communicated that promise with rather extraordinary clarity.

-x-

“So has your headache gotten any better since last night, Sparky?”

Pausing with a blink as he tipped the bottle to his lips and welcomed the last miniscule flood of water into his mouth, Xeraph held up a single long bronze finger and tossed his head back, washing the pill down his throat, before exhaling a hushed breath. “Mm, a little bit,” he nodded, licking the last of the moisture from his lips as he capped the bottle and inattentively tossed it over his shoulder into a nearby waste bin. If it had been anyone else, they probably would have missed – luckily for him, sometimes, he wasn’t just anyone. There were some perks to being a demon, after all. “Not much. It’s improved since the conference this morning though – and as I’m not one to question miracles when they happen, I’m not going to ask for much more than that any time soon.”

“Well that’s good, at least.”

“Still have this nasty little throb behind me temples, though.”

“I expect it’ll be keeping you company for a while.” Jasper grinned, resting his cheek on the back of his wrist, “Let’s name it Freddy.”

As he bent to rummage through his bag, Xeraph sent his partner an estranged look over the rims of his sunglasses, trying his very best to ignore the bustling activity in the building’s food court around them; only the slightest traces of a frown furrowed into his single uncovered brow. “You want to name my migraine Freddy?” He faltered as his mind struggled to find a more articulate inquisition than, “Why?”

His partner replied with nothing more than an offhanded shrug, piercing crimson irises flitting thoughtfully over his face. “Why not?”

“You’re an odd, odd little individual, Jasper.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” The demon perkily chirped, a sweet, toothy grin emphatically splitting his lips. Of course, sweet was probably only one word to use in describing it – saccharinely devious, on the other hand, seemed just the slightest bit more appropriate in Jasper’s case. Granted it was a word longer, but it was more befitting.

“’Love’, being the operative word in that statement.” Frowning when the cool metal of a long, cylindrical can failed to grace the questing tips of his fingers, Xeraph directed the brunt of his attention to the bag slouched at his feet against the metal leg of the food court chair. After a moment longer of searching, he finally caught a glimpse of the white and blue patterned tin – that was to say, after testily shoving his sunglasses up onto the flesh of his forehead – and breathed a sigh of relief when he straightened and returned the tinted lenses to their place. There was only so much painkillers could do, after all; nonetheless, the fact that his migraine was still looming ominously over his shoulder was just one way in which he felt compelled to keep his sunglasses out and operating.

Because let’s not forget that having flames in one’s irises is a somewhat unusual spectacle and tends to attract unwanted attention in this world. Never mind the fact that his partner had large, finely furred cat ears and a long, thick tail that was far too organically mobile to discount as fake. Demons of Jasper’s kind were accepted and far from unusual within the boundaries of Cervantes’ corporate sky-scraper; even they, however, like any other non-human being, felt most comfortable disguising themselves when in public.

Most of them, anyways. Jasper was a bit of an eccentric for his kind – not to mention a shameless attention whore. He’d made it his personal hobby when he wasn’t flirting to find new ways to exempt himself from the rules and protocol of the conformed.

Demons of Xeraph’s breed, on the other hand, were welcomed with somewhat less than open arms in the human realm, period. It was ironic in a way, really, that the demons that should be the closest ones to resemble the average human physique – save for their eyes – were also the ones most hated and feared… even by other demons.

Snapping the tab on possibly the only thing that kept him conscious and sane on days like this, Xeraph wasted not so much as even a second before taking a deep draught from the can of Red Bull despite Jasper’s narrowing crimson eyes.

“Y’know you really shouldn’t be mixing that crap,” the feline muttered as he absently fingered the edge of the paper plate heaped with nearly untouched Chinese food.

“Why not?” Blinking behind his lenses, Xeraph licked the corner of his lips and set the can aside; in the split second that his hand remained unoccupied his fingers had plucked up the chopsticks resting on the raised rim of his plate. Expertly pinching up a tangled mess of long, stringy noodles covered in a dark sauce and littered with vegetables and shrimp, Xeraph adjusted his grip, allowed a few extra clumps to drop back to the plate, and voraciously brought it to his mouth. Hey, he was a big man and all the recoup demanded a healthy appetite – of which he always had more than enough.

Jasper, not one to share his same enthusiasm for foods of Far Eastern ethnicity, lightly nudged his plate aside as he rolled his eyes and settled his chin against the heel of his palm more comfortably. “I remember reading somewhere once that mixing medication with things like that was supposed to prevent the medication from working. Not to mention –”

Xeraph couldn’t help but snort out a satirical laugh as he collected another bundle of food, “Do you believe everything you read, Jasper?” Jasper, being the sweetheart he was, rewarded his remark with nothing more than a flat stare and the lifting of a choice, ringed finger before he pointedly continued.

“Not to mention,” ah, the boy had always possessed a magnificent skill for ignoring his teasing statements, “all the caffeine’ll probably turn you into a human vibrator by the time Max calls us back up there. I mean, you had two coffees when you got up, one on the way here, another while we were waiting for Grim and Graves, and now you’re drinking Red Bull. All of that with at least two painkillers in between. And I mean it’s not like I’m complaining about you being a human vibrator ‘cause let’s face it…” Jasper sent him a cheeky smile and a brief laugh saturated to its absolute limit in a blatant innuendo: ‘I’d be the first to hop on for a ride.’ “But that aside… Seriously, you’re on a path speeding impetuously towards a heart attack, Sparky, you know that?” The demon flatly concluded.

As good as the albino was at selectively acknowledging parts of their conversation, Xeraph was better.

Making a hushed sound in his throat through the food waiting to be demolished, Xeraph sucked the last stringy noodle through his lips and pushed the bulk of it to one side. “Mm, speaking of,” he began, his words softened by the deep-fried heaven coating his mouth in saliva as he made an inquisitive gesture with his chopsticks, “what was up with the ‘Olympic note-chucking’ back in the conference room, eh?”

A long pause rested oppressively between them as their gazes locked, Xeraph’s peering over the rims of his sunglasses while Jasper’s peeked up from beneath his lashes. A moment later, however, the demon airily shrugged a single slender shoulder – as though he truly had no idea what it was that Xeraph had hinted at. As if. “And that has what to do with you, medication, and caffeine, pray tell?” The boy could be dense sometimes but even Xeraph wasn’t blindsided enough by his sweet, innocent exterior to fall for that lame trick.

“Mm…” He pulled a deep expression of mock thought on his face as he chewed, chopsticks lingering empty and idle in mid-air until he swallowed and brought his unconvinced gaze back down to his partner. “For all intents and purposes for the time being… everything.” Taking another ravenous bite from the pile on his plate, Xeraph kept a close eye on the demon from behind his lenses as the younger man absently picked at the longer-than-the-average-male’s fingernails, naturally tapered to a sharp point, on the hand not supporting his chin. “So…?” Xeraph prodded in a drawl.

Slit crimson irises flitted down to the tabletop, and Jasper minutely shook his head before lightly shrugging once again. “I dunno – nothing, really.”

“Nuh-uh, someone ring the buzzer please, wrong answer, not buying it – no dancing ‘round this one, mate. Spill.”

He had to give his colorful partner credit for something, though. Even in spite of the flush slowly suffusing through his cheeks, the ears that slowly pushed themselves back against his head, Jasper still possessed the stubborn nerve to meet his unrelenting gaze head-on. Flaky, foppish and flirtatious as Jasper was, he had never been timid. “It was nothing, Sparky. Why are you so interested, anyways?” Xeraph could sense the sly smirk coming to Jasper’s pierced lips before its physical manifestation even had a chance to appear – that had to say something about how much he’d learned about him throughout the six-month duration of their partnership. “Jealous?”

Snorting with a well-deserved roll of the eyes, Xeraph shook his head and returned to his food. Silence settled once more over their table in a thick cloak, very nearly tangible in its presence as it hunched on Xeraph’s shoulders; he could feel its gripping talons sinking seemingly into his very flesh, tightening its hold with a low, ominous growl. The memory of Grim’s cheeky smile flashed before his eyes once more, and before he became aware of it, a furrow had buried itself into his brows.

He wasn’t seeing his food anymore. He saw the same darkness that he’d encountered in the Scotsman’s mind the day before, the haunted gloom that riddled the pale disks that had eclipsed the commonly stony cobalt blue of his eyes. And in his mind’s absence, preoccupied with the sudden uncharacteristic change that had overtaken Grim that day, Xeraph’s voice rose of its own hollow accord. “I didn’t think guys like Grim were your type.” Or maybe you weren’t listening when I told you what I saw in that head of his.

His partner, being the shameless flirt he was, obviously paid little heed to his words as his crimson eyes hungrily stalked the aesthetically pleasing young man – in Jasper’s mind – that casually passed by their table. “Tall, dark, handsome… I don’t see what’s not to –” But suddenly awareness dawned in those dreamy eyes and banished the admiring mist that had fogged them, leaving them sharp and clear long enough for the demon’s lids to droop shut with a clear, silent curse. Jasper’s entire posture sagged as he moodily regarded Xeraph with a dark petulant glare. “Xeraph you’re a foul beast and I hate you.”

Xeraph allowed a complacent grin to come to his lips and eradicate the gloomy train of thought his mind had been all too close to boarding. C’mon, caffeine, feel free to kick in any time now. “That’s what you get for being a natural flirt.” He sent the albino a last teasing waggle of his brows before taking another deep draught from the slender can at his side.

Large, ornamented white ears perked for only the most fleeting of moments before they defensively flattened again. Well, at least he had Jasper’s attention now. “I am not-!”

At the appearance of the polite, smiling woman at their table, Xeraph turned his attention up to her with a scintillating grin, his hand instinctively reaching out to stifle the last of the words on Jasper’s soft lips. “Well it would seem we have a guest. G’day, sheila, and how might I be of service to you?” His migraine, miraculously enough, seemed to be cured on the spot by the woman’s presence.

So it seemed there was a God after all. Huh. Good thing his cousin was nowhere to be seen, otherwise Xeraph would have found himself one hundred and fifty dollars more in the hole – and he didn’t really want that. (While not exactly what one could call a religious man, this cousin had placed his bet on the belief that there was indeed a God – albeit the bastard’s side of the whole thing had been that God existed only to torment the mortals he’d abandoned on Earth. If that were entirely true, though, and that was this “God’s” sole purpose in what one could relate to it as life… then what in the hell was this gorgeous specimen of the female persuasion doing standing at their table in her snugly fitting pinstriped suit jacket, pencil skirt, and five-inch spike-heels, hmm? Answer that.)

From the peevish look his partner was sending him – seeming to burn into the very back of his head – Xeraph could all but hear the demon’s thoughts muttering to themselves, And he’s calling me the natural flirt? Please. Lecherous, womanizing… And the insults continued.

Right, so maybe Jasper had a point there, but Xeraph would be damned before he’d admit to such a thing.

Wait… Wouldn’t his being a demon imply that he was already damned? Well… Hell.

He still wouldn’t admit it. He had his pride, after all.

Still faced with a bright, slightly lop-sided grin, the secretary lightly cleared her throat and folded her hands at her waist; a soft, if faintly chill, smile replaced itself upon burgundy lips. “Mr. Cervantes is ready to see you now, Mr. Roth.” Waiting for a moment while Xeraph shot Jasper a fleeting glance – his hand still placed firmly over the demon’s mouth – the woman briskly continued. “In addition, he has cordially extended an invitation to you both to accompany himself, as well as Mr. Necrosis and Mr. Reaper, to dinner this evening at the Chateaux Bleu.”

“Oh really now, is that so?” Xeraph murmured, nearly more to himself than to the patient, polite young woman. But a second’s worth of thought passed before his mind was snapped back to awareness by the sudden sensation of Jasper shoving his hand away from his pierced mouth; he sent his partner a brief glance just in time to catch the somewhat petulant look he shot at the secretary. In turn, Xeraph brought his attention back around to her with a broad smile. “And might you be accompanying us as well, miss? We could do with the company of a charming woman such as yourself.”

Oh, if looks could kill – Jasper would’ve been the claimer of his life five times over.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Roth,” The woman smiled, brushing a dark lock of wavy hair back from her forehead, “but I’m afraid I’ve already got plans of my own. I’m to meet with my fiancée after work to discuss wedding arrangements.”

Oh, damn. Was that really a twenty-four carat gold engagement ring he’d seen on her left finger?

Faltering in a loss for words, he pointedly ignored the loud, poorly disguised snort of laughter resonating from Jasper’s side of the table; seconds later, a smile returned and he gave a careless shrug. “Well I would be lying through my teeth if I even dared to imply that you wouldn’t be missed. He’s a lucky man, this fiancée of yours.”

“Actually, as the word would suggest – two es instead of one – my fiancée is a woman.”

This time, Jasper didn’t bother to even attempt hiding his laughter, all but doubled over to the point of his forehead resting against the table top as he clutched at his midriff. Committing nothing less than his all to the effort of resisting the temptation to cuff the significantly younger demon square in the temple – as well as that of staving off the heat he could feel rising in his face – Xeraph released a slightly sheepish laugh and subtly rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned on the table and shrugged again. “All the same, you have my best wishes, m’dear – both of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roth, I’ll let her know.” The humoring, if slightly sarcastic smile faded from expertly painted lips as the secretary lightly cocked her head and raised her brows, “Will you be heading up to see Mr. Cervantes now or would you like me to relay to him that you’d like another moment to finish your lunch?”

“Ah…” Releasing a heavy breath that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, Xeraph glanced to the side, down to his unfinished food, and then back up at their company. A tight grin came to his lips as he caught another glance of Jasper struggling to stem his laughter, his face flushed and a finger lifted to wipe the tears from his eyes; he testily edged the sole of his shoe onto the tip of Jasper’s tail and jerked, knowing that a hair or a handful had been torn free as the young man yelped and jolted in his seat. The smile widened in smug satisfaction. “We’ll be heading up now, thanks. Ready, mate?”

Much to his pleasure, Jasper was wearing the nastiest glare he’d ever seen the boy don before as he protectively clutched at the end of his tail and answered with a quiet hiss. Much to his displeasure, however, just as they began to get up and head towards the elevator – genially nodding farewell at the young woman on their way by – Grim and Vincent stepped out of one just next to them. Vincent looked as irritable as usual, veritably steaming from the ears, while Grim… Grim, he noticed, shot him only a quick, darting glance before his gaze snapped back to Jasper. A slow smile grew on his lips as they passed by, and Xeraph didn’t even have to see it to know that the Scotsman had shot a flirtatious wink at his partner behind his back.

That, coupled with Jasper’s show of absolute and utter dismissal of what he’d told the younger thief last night, gave birth to a sour ball curling in his gut, reaching up with chill fingers to press discomfortingly against the walls of his chest. I don’t like this. There’s something wrong with that man – I can feel it. That thing, whatever it was, wasn’t just his bad mood.

“You’re an ass, Sparky – an absolute and over-qualified ass. How would you like it if you had a tail and I ripped a nice big handful of hair out of it?”

As the elevator doors breezily slid shut, Xeraph saw only the black form of Grim’s retreating back, his lightly bronzed profile as he turned to address the fuming blonde Englishman at his side – Jasper’s petulant mutter never even reached his ears.

-x-

Cocking a single ear to the closed door, Grim raised his knuckles and knocked only lightly three times before allowing himself in; Vincent, he saw, was already half-dressed… Not that he was complaining, of course. After all, with such a spectacular view, why would he?

The Englishman stood placidly before the full length mirror scant strides away from his door, a white dress-shirt laying open to reveal a strip of smooth, hairless torso as he deftly wound his wet hair into a tight braid. Dark eyes had inherently flitted to their corners to shoot a moody and blatantly unenthused glare at him as he leaned against the doorframe, a hand braced on his cocked hip and a low whistle of admiration escaping his lips. Grim’s gaze swung up and down his partner’s figure a number of times, absorbing even the smallest of details, before a grin grew at the corners of his mouth.

“Well now, if that isn’t a sight for sore eyes, I don’t know what is.”

Already half-mast lids narrowed further as the peevish Englishman snorted and tugged his hair over his shoulder to continue braiding. His fingers, Grim noticed, worked with a dexterity he’d never seen before – twisting, folding, turning; in all honesty it made him want nothing more than to capture those pale, fervently moving fingers, to cradle them in his hands and lift them to his lips for a yearning kiss. The fanciful illusion was shattered, however, when Vincent dismissively looked back to his mirror with a roll of dark, irritable irises to watch his fingers work.

“Well you can get your sore eyes back where they belong in their sockets and sod off, you bloody wank. I’m not running a show for you,” He muttered, shaking a strand of moist, straying hair from his eyes.

With a broad smirk painted across his face, Grim casually shambled into the hacker’s room – in spite of his sharp pause, his palpably annoyed stare, as he did so – and flopped down on the soft white bed. Comfortably leaning back on his elbows to watch the older man work, he couldn’t help but amiably smile at him when Vincent turned around and pinned him with an exasperated frown.

“Did I say you could come in and make yourself as comfortable as a bleedin’ dustbunny, Grim? Because I don’t think I did.” Vincent paused for one tense, deliberate moment as he scathingly mimicked a mockery of recollection. “As a matter of fact, I vaguely recall telling you to sod off.”

He carelessly shrugged. “Aye, ye did, but I don’t see what harm I’m doing in stickin’ around.” His gaze swept down over Vincent’s body once more, his head contemplatively cocked onto his shoulder, and the grin returned. “You know, to finish getting dressed would ruin the whole look you’ve got going right now – and it’s a fine look, it’d be a pity to lose it. Might I offer a wee bit of humble advice and suggest that you keep it?”

Vincent simply glared at him before returning his gaze to the mirror to continue his work. “And what ever would give you the idea that I’d even think twice about taking your advice?”

“I have good taste,” Grim complacently smirked, adoring every second further that Vincent allowed his shirt to hang open, exposing his torso to the cool air of the bedroom. If he really concentrated and kept a keen eye on the man, Grim thought he caught just the slightest glimpse of a perked, pale caramel nipple before a fold of shirt covered it once more.

Sure, one could call him as perverted or as immature as they bloody well pleased – point of fact was that Grim refused to take offered glances for granted. After all, it was so very rare for Vincent to ever permit even the slightest hint that flesh existed beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t quite call it ‘good’, you egocentric swine,” The hacker blandly remarked, shooting Grim a caustic glance in his mirror as he fastened a single tie around the end of his braid. “Crude and bawdy, perhaps, but never ‘good.’” Flicking the smooth rope of hair over his shoulder – its end just barely tickling the small of his back – the Englishman experimentally tucked the loose, straying locks of his bangs behind his ears, humming an irritated sigh when a few strands that were too short to remain slipped back into his face.

Grim simply shrugged in response. His esteemed partner was right after all - what point was there in arguing with him?

Vincent’s mouth quirked at one corner as he observed himself, and he tugged his bangs free once again, pulling the whole lot of them – all with varying lengths that created a beautifully ragged and uneven look – into his face before parting the black-tipped curtain in the center and pulling the two halves apart. Brushing them down in silken drapes that bracketed each side of his pale, finely featured face, Grim watched on with a silent grin of amusement as the Englishman tucked the longest strands – reaching just barely to his jaw – behind his pierced ears for the last time. Finally, with a concluding keen inspection of criticizing brown irises, he seemed to settle with the look.

He hardly struck me as the type to obsess over his appearance and preen when we first met, and you’d certainly never guess it from how he dresses at home, Grim’s thoughts hummed with a crooked smirk. Apparently there’s some human vanity in there after all. The smirk widened. Hmm, shocking little bit of info, that.

“You know I imagine that even if you had mud and twigs and leaves and the like all messed up in that hair of yours, sweet’art, no one would dare stop you from walking into a fancy restaurant,” Grim casually remarked, cocking his head onto his shoulder again and absently tracing the line that Vincent’s braid carved down his back with his gaze.

“Is that so?” Vincent dismissively hummed, giving himself a final once-over before he parted from his reflection and shambled to his roomy walk-in closet without so much as even a peevish glance carelessly tossed in Grim’s direction. “And how do you figure that, pray tell?” He clearly didn’t care, Grim could tell that much, but… whatever.

Lying back on the Englishman’s mattress – the very one on which he’d made love and later slept next to Vincent’s warm body so seemingly long ago – he lethargically folded his arms behind his head and inwardly grieved for times gone by. Even so, he refused to let his partner out of his sight, watching as he flicked on the closet’s overhead light and paused before a rack of clothes, a hand on his narrow hip and its brother cradling a sharp chin, tapping the Englishman’s soft lower lip in thought.

“Well, all you’d have to do is give themaître d' one of those ever-elusive smiles of yours – and I do mean a real one, not one of those ‘holier-than-thou/you-try-my-patience, puny mortal’ ones – and I’m sure the man would drop to his knees for you in a second to wait on your every beck and call.” Rolling onto his left side, Grim propped his temple in the heel of his hand and, entranced, couldn’t help but make a keen note of each and every movement his partner made.

As Vincent tugged aside a wall of clothing on the rack to peer musingly at a dark navy blazer – at which Grim mentally grimaced, silently begging him not to pick it – Grim’s eyes lingered on the pale expanse of skin that had been revealed to him by the motion, scouring the soft curve of his partner’s ribs, the finely toned wall of his stomach. Of course, it would have been nigh impossible not to notice the hard caramel nipple that he’d stole scarce more than a glimpse of before Vincent’s arm had obstructed his gaze. Again.

God, what he would have sacrificed to have that single nub of flesh between his lips, to have Vincent beneath him, pressing his flushed face into his shoulder with a faint moan. With a small grin, Grim couldn’t help but imagine how his partner would react if he gently used his teeth on him there, or his tongue, nibbling and tasting that fragrant skin. His nails, perhaps, would rake themselves over his shoulder blades; or maybe the hacker would respond with nothing more than a heady breath, trapping that lush lower lip between his teeth. Perhaps those long, adroit fingers would comb themselves lovingly through his hair…

Sighing under his breath, he forced back the wash of desire he felt rushing over him; it begged him in an alluring, dissolute voice to allow it control over him, to allow it absolute dominion over everything he was, and it was very nearly successful in entrancing him into giving in, relinquishing the harshness of the real world for the satisfying haven that voice promised.

Nearly, however, was the key word in that statement. The instant Grim felt a long, liquid pull in his groin – the very second he registered the fact that his heart began beating faster and harder against his ribs – he pointedly cleared his throat and wrenched his mind back into the present, away from the seductive images of Vincent lingering in the very back of his mind, taunting him… Tempting him… Calling out to him in a husky, wanton voice.

He could have gone mad when Vincent looked at him just then, the tip of his finger lightly trapped between his teeth. But of course, whatever eroticism the look had in it was shattered by the cynical arch in the Englishman’s dark brow, the disturbed curiosity lingering in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” The Englishman muttered, both brows arching and his hand breaking from his mouth in a gesture of inquiry, “Have I offended you somehow in failing to devote the entirety of my attention with an absolute and unwavering focus to you? Or did you honestly expect me to dignify something so…” A frown settled in Vincent’s expression, his poised hand circling as though shuffling through his vocabulary for an appropriate word, “asinine, with a response?”

Oh, hell. And once again, Vincent King immediately decided to jump to the most arrogant conclusion he could think of. Jesus bleedin’ Christ on the cross why did he have to make things so fucking difficult?

Deciding that it would be safer to continue on the route they were already traversing – as he was more than certain that explaining what he’d really meant with that clearing-of-the-throat gesture wouldn’t help the situation at all – Grim quietly sighed and pinned his partner with a stare that matched the Englishman’s for bland dourness. “Actually that was meant as a compliment – that is to say, I was merely remarking on the fact that you have a rather charming smile when you choose to use it without the intent of it boring a cynical hole into someone’s head.”

A beat passed, and then another while Vincent remained locked with his gaze; he broke the hold with a shake of his head as he turned back to his wardrobe and pulled out another blazer – a pale tan, this time – to flatly observe it. “If you expect garish flattery to swoon me the same way it does Jasper I’m afraid you’re sadly and terribly mistaken, Grim – not to mention a very poor judge of character.” With nary more than a wry, cursory glance in Grim’s direction, Vincent returned his attention to his closet and fit the jacket back in with the others.

And that lone comment was the very one that disengaged Grim utterly and completely from his fantasies. A bewildered furrow took to his brow as he mulled over his partner’s words, rolling them over in his mind as he contemplatively gnawed on the inside corner of his lip and criticized the bed’s pristine white coverlet. Finally, he gave up with a minute shake of his head and looked up at the Englishman again. “What’re you talking about, Vincent?” There has got to be something I’m missing in this equation. That just came out of abso-bloody-lutely nowhere.

A broad, cynical smile found itself stretched across Vincent’s velvet-lipped mouth, but the hacker didn’t meet his gaze again. “Oh please,” he snorted, the smile slowly fading into the barest phantom of an ill-tempered scowl. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Grim.”

“Vincent, you’re obviously dropping the wrong hints because I really don’t have even the vaguest of ideas as to what you’re talking about.”

This time the blonde graced him with a glance – an acerbic one, but a glance all the same. “Really? Well I find that sincerely and almost appallingly hard to believe.”

Grim’s brows jumped against his will at the sharp, caustic tone of the Englishman’s voice; he couldn’t help but stare, watching the nearly palpable temper swirling around Vincent’s slender figure as he shoved the last of the jackets aside and bent to rifle through one of the nearby drawers.

“Well someone’s a wee bit cranky tonight.” Typically, his mouth decided to shoot itself off without warning his brain first.

He half expected Vincent to pull a gun on him then and there, but the bullets he could all but see carried on the blonde’s glare… they were more than enough. “Hardly. Grim, I’m not stupid, and you, I’m not really sorry to say, are an absolutely god-awful actor.” A hand sharply swept itself through the air in exasperation. “Everyone within a ten mile radius could see those flagrant bedroom eyes of yours. It made me nauseous, personally,” Vincent continued in a mumble as he slung a tie around his neck and shrugged into a plain black blazer, “but… all to one’s personal tastes, I suppose.”

Why was it that the way the man finished that statement so… so unbelievably haughtily made his temper bristle?

“Bedroom eyes? Vincent…” Grim sat up on his partner’s bed, swinging his legs around to rest off of the edge as he pinned the man with a perplexed stare. “I haven’t been making ‘bedroom eyes’ at Jasper, Vincent. He’s a co-worker and a good friend yes but I don’t make ‘bedroom eyes’ at him – and vice versa.”

It was a lie, and Grim knew intimately, down to the very deepest pits of his being, that it was a flagrant lie at that; but he didn’t want to admit otherwise to Vincent. He couldn’t make himself tell him what it really was. The entire thing suddenly felt as though he was simply sitting in the back of his mind, allowing his body to make up what truths it pleased and allowing some part of him to believe in them and accept them wholeheartedly while the other…

It simply smiled a grim, humorless smile. I’m turning into a pathological liar. I warp and transmute and defile the truth without even thinking about it anymore, like it’s become second nature. The wry grin faded and he mutely shook his head at himself. No, it’s been second nature for a while now. The part of him that knew this curled into itself, hugged its knees tighter to its chest and buried its head into its arms in silent shame. Even if he already knows, I don’t want to say it out loud. I want to try and fight and refute it as much as I can so I don’t feel so pathetic when I think about how he must see me through those eyes of his.

When he felt Vincent’s warm touch against his cheek, he almost allowed his muscles to twitch in surprise, almost allowed himself to lean into the hacker’s firm hand thinking it was a dream – but it wasn’t. Vincent was there, in front of him, his shirt neatly buttoned, patting his cheek with a dry, astringently saccharine grin on his lips.

“Grim, darling,” the Englishman cooed, “don’t try to act coy on my account. You’re so obvious that I remain to be quite frankly amazed that no one’s called you on it, yet.”

What shame had existed in his thoughts vanished, and a hot fount of indignation exploded within his chest as he followed his partner’s retreating figure with a cold gaze. “Would you mind terribly if I asked what crawled up your ass and died?”

Without another glance, Graves’ figure flicked off the overhead light in his bedroom and shambled casually down the hall. “I’ll be waiting in the car. Do try to hurry up, would you?” Time seemed to pass with far more haste than usual, and before he realized it, Grim heard the click of the door as Vincent left the loft, abandoning him in the cold, dark silence.

“I take it that’s a ‘yes, I do mind.’” He irritably mumbled to himself.

Shaking his head as he rolled his eyes and heaved a breath in the murky shadows of the loft, Grim hunched over his knees and combed his hand back through his hair. The fountain of anger slowly gurgled down into nothing more than a rancid puddle that sat uneasily in his stomach as the darkness huddled around him; each second longer that he sat there, adding silence to an already oppressive master, he became more aware of the blood pulsing through his veins. Each second longer, he felt his heart beat one convulsion faster until a sharp, biting vice slowly, constrictively, coiled around it.

And only when he expected something to come rushing at him from the shadows and the silence – mad crimson eyes wild and bloodied teeth bared in a horrific, bone-chilling shriek – did he force himself to hastily locate the light switch near the door and flood his world with illumination once again.

Only then did he permit himself to release a breath he’d never realized that he’d been holding and let the tension melt away from the muscles in his chest.

-x-

“So I pretty much told the poor bastard that if he wanted it back so badly, all he had to do was take it from me hands and, in managing that, I would give it over without a struggle. ‘Fine, done deal,’ says he. ‘I won’t even break a sweat.’ Tried absolutely everything that came to mind, he did but despite the boasting, considering that he was just barely over three point five feet tall, I walked away with the prize.” The bronze-skinned demon gave an easy shrug as his smirk widened into a humoring grin. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

“That’s a brutal, demeaning way to conduct business, Xeraph, using the man’s personal handicap against him.” Cervantes chuckled, shaking his head at the man with a broad smile on pale lips. “Albeit it’d be wrong of me to deny that I probably would have reacted the same way, being apprehended by a guard who could do no more than glare at my waist and smack my knees with a billy club.”

“I did feel like an arthritic old man for a time after that, though,” the redhead casually allowed, lightly gesturing with the amber bottle suspended from his fingertips.

Feeling a tiny smirk come to the outskirts of his lips, Vincent arched his brows at the Australian and lifted his chin from where it had been resting between his thumb and index finger. “Some words of advice though, Xeraph: Don’t underestimate those of us who happen to be unfortunate enough to lack in inches. We always make up for it somehow. Personally I say bully for him.” Lifting his glass in a modest, mute toast to the short-statured night-guard in Xeraph’s story amidst the laughter of the two other men, and a sly, chuckled innuendo from the redhead, Vincent took a dignified draught of white wine.

Nonetheless, in spite of his engaging companions and their equally enthralling conversations, he found himself becoming increasingly, annoyingly aware of how neither Grim, nor Jasper, had seen fit to introduce themselves into any one bit of the exchange for what was beginning to seem very much like the entirety of the evening – unless, of course, that conversation was with one another. And in utter spite of himself, while his mind demanded that he simply ignore it to the best of his ability and refuse to let it ruin a perfectly good evening, his ear found itself wandering time and time again away from the voices of his seniors.

While Xeraph and Cervantes continued on, their discussion ranging sporadically from past jobs to personal encounters with thugs to politics to admiring the restaurant – or the classy young women working as servers – to anything else either mind could conjure, Grim and Jasper remained secluded in their own quiet world. Grim was resting his chin in his fingers, a soft, warm smile spread upon his lips as he sent the – for once – suit-clad albino a teasing wink; Jasper leaned forward onto the table on his elbows, shushing whatever comment it was that Grim had made with a muted laugh and a grin turned golden by the frail light of the candle Xeraph had prodded down to their end of the table at the start of the evening.

He’d said something at the time about snipping the temptation at the bud, and although the others had remained vaguely lost in the secret joke, Vincent recalled all too well, albeit with a slight, fond smile as he did so, how prone Xeraph was to playing with candles. The man was liable to turn into a veritable pyromaniac if he got too carried away, and that wasn’t exactly something he imagined would greatly impress the restaurant; but then, he supposed that as Xeraph was a fire demon, such an affinity for flames should be expected.

At least he had the decency to smother bothersome habits before they had a chance to flare – no pun intended… Unlike other particular members of our company, Vincent pointedly thought to himself.

Even doing everything within his power to appear raptly engaged in the conversation of his peers, he found it nearly impossible to miss – or ignore – the way Grim reached over to brush his fingers lightly against Jasper’s flushing cheek in his peripheral vision, and before he knew it, the slightest shadow of a grimace rose within his expression as he wrenched his attention over to Cervantes and Xeraph.

Like hell he didn’t know what I was talking about, his mind snidely muttered with an ill-tempered huff. The way that man acts is atrocious. You’d think that he’d be able to put aside his obsession with flirting just for once in professional company and be a little more polite, but no… Of course not. As long as there’s someone around who’ll fall for his nauseating advances he’ll focus on nothing else. Taking another peevish draught of wine, Vincent leaned his jaw into his fingers again and moodily considered the pristine white tablecloth, yet to be cluttered with the plates of food they’d ordered.

He’d never even noticed how Xeraph’s unshielded irises had strayed to him – drawing the blonde’s, as well – until his head gently cocked itself and the Aussie leaned towards him over the table. “Is something wrong, Vince?” A crooked grin plucked at one corner of Xeraph’s lips as a dark brow inquisitively quirked. “You look like you’ve got a foul taste in your mouth. Bad wine?”

Glancing up at the man with a clarifying shake of his head, Vincent summoned a faint smile and lifted his chin from his fingers, settling back in his seat and clasping his hands on the tabletop. “Oh, no, it’s… It’s nothing. The wine is fine, I’m just thinking, that’s all.” Misty emerald eyes flitted back and forth between them, a keen interest blossoming beneath Cervantes’ expression until Vincent forced his smile to widen and waved the silent inquiry aside. “Really, it’s nothing worth mentioning.”

Xeraph hadn’t even the need to utter but the quietest of words for Vincent to know with an absolute certainty that even though the man was nursing his fifth beer of the evening, he didn’t believe a word of the lie that had passed through Vincent’s lips so easily. His eyes explained everything, silently probing even after Vincent subtly charged into another conversation that he knew would spur a debate.

The effort to distract himself and the others was for naught, however, nullified the instant Jasper rose his voice over the clamor around them. “Uhm, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Pushing himself up from his seat with a feline grace, Vincent noticed – all over again – how Grim and the demon shared a lengthy smile before the young thief vanished around the corner of their partially secluded grotto.

Only then did Grim deem it fit to become involved in conversation with the others. “I must admit, sir – this is really quite a fine place to suggest for nothing more than a casual dinner with employees.” A broad grin slathered itself across his mouth as he cast an admiring eye around the tastefully rich décor. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the privilege of dining somewhere so… posh before. I mean,” the Scotsman flicked a finger down to the various array of polished silver cutlery carefully positioned before him with a jestingly dubious smile. “What’s one to do with all of these? Three forks for one meal?”

Permitting a rich laugh to stream into the cozy atmosphere, Cervantes settled back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach. “Has it become a crime to dine with companions in such a fine place?”

“I think,” Xeraph chuckled, “he’s more in wonder of how much the bill’s going to be, Mel.” But the blonde merely batted the comment aside and met each of their gazes with a warm, amiable smile.

“None of you have any need whatsoever to worry about the bill. Consider this your employer’s treat for all of the hard work I demand of you.” With a gracious gesture of his finely sculpted cup of sake – something Vincent had overheard that the manager of the restaurant ordered explicitly at Cervantes’ modest request – the CEO smiled and took a sip.

Casting a waiting glance around the table in the momentary silence, Xeraph gave a boisterous shrug and lifted his bottle with a smirk. “I’d toast to that.” Gathering about him a ridiculously endearing air of aristocratic dignity, the demon straightened and raised his bottle higher. “To generous employers and their equally generous wallets.” For the first time in what felt like far, far too long, Vincent felt a genuine laugh burst free from his throat before he could stop it when their employer adopted his own poised mask of nobility in reply.

“To half-drunk Australians who couldn’t deliver a proper toast if their life depended on it.”

“You insult my honor, knave! Not even half yet!”

With an affectionate, mildly apologetic returning gesture to the jesting redhead amidst a chorus of laughter, the blonde continued with a sincere smile, “But also to all of you fine lads – Jasper included. I’d wait on this until he got back but god only knows how long he’ll be. Anyways, there’s not a man alive in the world who could possibly be blessed with companions – and employees –” Cervantes added with a light-hearted smirk, “as outstanding as yourselves.” With a final, approving nod, the blonde stood, oblivious to the few patrons of nearby tables who sent him an odd, curious look. “May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far. That having been said, may you live as long as you like, and have all that you like as long as you live. Kanpai.” Easily draining the rest of his cup in but a single draught as the others echoed the word back to him, Cervantes gracefully lowered himself to his seat again; watching Xeraph reach over to engage the man in a proud, affable shake of the hands – the demon’s own closing about the blonde’s wrist as they did so – Vincent took another sip of wine and fought to smother the smile tweaking at his lips.

The good cheer lingering in a heavy cloud around their table just then seemed to seep past everything within him to bury itself deep in the core of his being, warmly resonating and spreading its golden gift throughout his body. After an exchange like that, it was hard to allow himself to remain bogged down by the foul mood brought about by his partner’s perpetually libidinous attitude, and yet…

“Beg your pardon,” Grim suddenly interjected, pushing himself up from his seat with a smile and an apologetic wink. “Too much to drink.”

For but a scarce handful of minutes, Vincent found that he could ignore the nagging thoughts of Grim and Jasper’s dalliances; it returned now in full force with reinforcements adhered to its hind flank. Finishing off the rest of his wine in a single deft swallow, Vincent ignored the Scotsman entirely as he took his leave and submerged himself with a renewed determination in conversation with his companions.

-x-

Standing aside with a curt smile as the peevish-looking old man strode purposefully through the door, Grim slipped silently into the washroom and hesitated for one long moment; an ear was cocked to his surroundings, listening carefully for any signs that would indicate yet further occupation. Satisfied with the air of utter silence that swarmed over the interior of the washroom, Grim cautiously eased the lock into place, and padded quietly into the center of the tiled rectangular room.

Christ, even the bathrooms are made up like the Titanic. Eyeing the dark cherry wood lining each one of the mirrors over the sinks, the gracefully curved wall-mounted hurricane lamps situated in between, Grim shook his head and turned his attention to the short line of hunter green bathroom stalls at the back of the room.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty…” He softly sang, lightly pushing open the doors as he passed them by. Each one turned out to be empty – until, of course, he reached the last of them. Skipping the scarce few that were left, Grim moved instead to the final stall and tapped the door open with his fingertips. At long last, he was greeted with the sight of the albino crouched carefully atop the toilet seat, his tail curled tightly about himself with his hands pressed to his mouth; wide crimson eyes peered up at him for a time before those pallid fingers dropped and Grim was rewarded with a broad, feline smile.

“Ah, there you are.” Grinning as he pulled the laughing demon up from his perch, Grim pressed a playful kiss to the albino’s cheek and tugged his lean body into him.

“I was wondering how long you were going to take,” Jasper chuckled, winding his arms casually around his neck as Grim reached back and locked the door before permitting his hands to clasp amorously around the smaller thief’s waist. As the demon affectionately nuzzled at Grim’s throat, he couldn’t resist breathing in the fresh, sweet scent of that soft white hair, drawing a delicate pattern with his fingertips over Jasper’s lower back. “I have to admit that I was starting to get a little impatient,” he murmured.

“I figured as much, but I was delayed,” Grim whispered, burying his nose in Jasper’s fragrant hair and relishing the feel of their bodies together, the curious, heady mixture of their scents. “You missed a rather touching toast, started off rather inelegantly by none other than your Sir Sparkplug.” Warmed by the hushed chuckle that escaped against the quickly exposed flesh of his throat, Grim’s touch wandered beneath the hem of the young thief’s silver blazer and traced an intimate line down his spine. “Have you been enjoying dinner thus far?”

Pearly teeth lightly nipped at the corner of his jaw before soft, velveteen lips covered it with a kiss. “Mm, yeah,” Jasper murmured, “but now it’s even better.”

Smirking, Grim lifted the albino’s face with a fingertip beneath his chin and brushed the backs of his knuckles over a flushed cheek. His heart raced within his chest at the sight of those slit crimson eyes finally looking up at him, naked of civil, professional barriers – naked of everything, as a matter of fact, save affection and desire. It made him want nothing more than to indulge the fantasies that had been torturing him throughout the entirety of the day, to take Jasper in this washroom and touch every part of him the way he knew they both wanted. Only common sense held him back, forced him to accept submission and settle for a light, lingering kiss.

With the corners of his lips curled into a tiny grin, Grim minutely nodded. “Good to hear.” God, even the sound of his own voice, the husky rasp that had suddenly taken over, served as nothing more than fodder for his growing lust. The way Jasper continued to look up at him, intently, desirably, became gasoline to feed the fire pulsing through his veins, making his skin itch beneath his clothing to feel the flesh of another against it.

The blood drained from his head, leaving it light and single-minded, when Jasper finally leaned in to press a tempting kiss to his pierced earlobe, his pallid fingers teasingly brushing against the back of Grim’s neck. “You look good with dark skin, Grim. Keep it that way, huh?” Grim couldn’t help but press a line of answering kisses down the side of Jasper’s neck while the young demon stretched up to reach him; a smooth, skewered tongue slipped out to run itself in a tantalizing trail over the rim of his ear, majestic white teeth coming again to nip at the ridge of cartilage at the edge. When the warmth of the thief’s mouth took his lobe into it, lightly massaging it and nibbling and tugging, Grim felt a bolt of pure lust shoot out into his limbs.

Heavily swallowing, Grim’s touch abandoned the albino’s back, sliding up his front to clumsily release a line of buttons that extended down his chest, slipping past the pure white fabric to reverently caress the flesh that was equally pale beyond. He felt Jasper’s lips tug into a smirk around his earlobe and the demon gave his earring a playful tug when Grim pushed down the shoulder of his blazer, his shirt, to dip and hungrily kiss his throat again, to move yet further onto his shoulder. Jasper’s breaths came hot against his ear, and his skin, white as fresh snow, was balmy and smooth beneath his lips; slender, nimble fingers wound themselves into his shaggy raven hair, and sharp nails lightly raked themselves across the back of his neck.

“Only if you stay so pale,” Grim breathed, dragging his lips back up Jasper’s throat until he could lovingly gaze down into those taboo crimson irises, the lashes surrounding them thick and dark with mascara.

A wide grin came to Jasper’s beautiful mouth, his eyes sparkling as a secret laugh escaped from his chest. He was laughing at the unconscious irony of Grim’s own request, no doubt – telling an albino of all people to remain pale, to never let his skin grow one shade darker. Grim almost chuckled at it himself, but Jasper just pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and murmured, “Will do. We have a deal, Mr. Reaper,” while gazing up amorously into his eyes.

Grim smirked at the heat the title prodded to life within him. “Mm, you should call me that more often,” he smoothed his palm over Jasper’s unpierced right cheek and leaned in until he could feel the demon’s soft breathing against his lips. “It’s very attractive.” Cradling a flushing face in his bandaged hands, painfully aware of the proximity of their bodies, Grim permitted his lids to drift shut as he brushed against Jasper’s mouth, kissed his lower lip, and lightly nudged his way past the plush velvet gates. Within an instant he felt the demon’s warm tongue against his own, felt the heat waging war between them as he dragged his hand down Jasper’s shoulder, his arm, to wind about his waist and pull him close. He felt the desire within Jasper, pulsing through his demonic veins as hotly and fervently as Grim’s own.

Without even realizing how much time had passed or how it had happened, Grim found Jasper pressed tightly back into the door, his legs a vice around Grim’s waist and his mouth as eager as it had been the moment they’d first kissed. The burning skin of the albino’s torso was naked against Grim’s clothing; when Grim pulled away to dip and claim one of those hard, pallid nipples with his mouth Jasper held himself up on the frame of the stall, his body arching, his swollen lip catching itself between his teeth to stifle the moan Grim could hear building in his throat.

It would have been impossible not to nudge his hips forward into the tenderness between Jasper’s thighs; it would have been impossible not to pull the demon harder into him with the hands clutching at the albino’s ass. He wanted, so badly, to just tell the rest of the dinner to piss off, to tell Jasper that they were leaving so they could spend the remnants of the evening entwined and rapturous in Jasper’s bed. He wanted nothing more than to have the moaning albino naked beneath him, arching, mewling, purring and kneading the sheets in absolute euphoria.

He wasn’t oblivious to the way Jasper’s tail had quirked to the side; he’d known the demon long enough to know achingly well that such an action was a plea for these mild, insatiable intimacies to go further. And the second time he pushed himself against the thief forced him to acknowledge that if they didn’t stop soon, he would end up spending the rest of dinner locked in this bathroom stall fucking Jasper’s brains out.

Much as he yearned for the demon, much as he ached for him, Grim struggled to sever himself from Jasper’s intoxicating lips. It was nigh impossible, however, to break the heated bond between them, the erotic dance of lips and tongue and teeth as addicting as the first time he’d felt true power. “Mnn… Stop. Jasper, we have to…” An anxious mouth smothered his half-hearted protests until he thought they’d suffocate him before he managed to pull himself away. Fluttering lids fought to lift themselves, to peer longingly and apologetically into the demon’s eyes, but they failed. “We have to stop,” Grim breathily murmured, lingering against Jasper’s soft mouth in regretful rapture.

When the tip of the albino’s slick, sumptuous tongue grazed his lower lip, Grim felt something hot, something powerful, lurch within him, felt the familiar liquid pull between his legs as Jasper’s arms tightened around his shoulders; it certainly didn’t help the situation, either, when he pushed his slender hips forward into Grim’s own, his pallid fingers burying themselves in his hair and his kisses transforming into something even more avid and desperate than before. “Nuh-uh,” Jasper hotly mewled against his mouth, “Want more.”

“Jasper…” Shifting the albino’s weight against him – a stupid and incredibly frustrating move on his part, he admitted to himself with a deep, throaty groan – Grim finally escaped from the alluring abyss personified by Jasper’s lips, gently taking his sharp jaw in his fingers and holding him still before the seducer was proffered an opportunity to distract him yet further. “We have to stop – we shouldn’t go any further otherwise… god…” Nuzzling into soft white hair with a regretful, yearning moan, Grim stroked the albino’s cheek and lightly kissed his jaw. “I won’t be able to stop, control myself… Nothing.”

“That’s okay,” Jasper purred in a whisper, his teeth nipping tenderly at his ear. “I don’t want you to stop, Grim.”

“I don’t want to either but we have to – it’d be too obvious.”

A slight, petulant pout blended itself into Jasper’s expression, adding an exquisite taint to the delicately painted mask of unlimited desire that he wore so beautifully. “Like it’s not whenever we do it somewhere else,” he quietly snorted. “It wouldn’t make it any less obvious if we did it here or back at my place, Grim – you know that as well as I do. They may not call us on it but they’ll know either way.”

Grim called a warm, charming smirk to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the shorter man’s cheek. “I know, but I like it better at your place,” another delicate kiss found itself on the corner of Jasper’s pierced, fondly grinning mouth, “and I like your bed.” Relishing the sensation of the thief melting into his body, the taut vice of his thighs around his hips and the weight of him against his groin, Grim allowed his smile to widen as he tilted Jasper’s flushed face up to him once more. “We’ll wait until after dinner, yeah? Then I’ll take you home when the others head over to Cervantes’ place for their nightcap and then…” He leaned in for one last, hinting kiss as his fingers loosened to a tempting caress along Jasper’s jaw. “We’ll have everything to ourselves – all the time in the world…”

Watching the demon’s silken pink tongue thoughtfully slip out to stroke the corner of his mouth, his garnet irises darting down to linger between their bodies, Grim allowed himself to grin when finally Jasper’s gaze returned to tangle itself with his. “Promise?”

“Absolutely,” Grim murmured, lightly grazing against the albino’s lips and relishing his muted sigh. “It’s the only thing I’ll be looking forward to for the rest of the evening.” As pallid fingers stroked themselves through his hair and a soft laugh escaped against his mouth, Grim dove into his petite albino once more before they would be forced to part; he adored the muffled giggles he could hear in Jasper’s throat, the smile he could feel on his lips and his teasingly nipping teeth. And when he yearningly gave the demon’s ass one last firm, teasing squeeze, when his full white tail twitched to the side in arousal, Grim acknowledged the slow-burning flame that had been sparked into being that would transform every last waiting moment before their tryst into sheer, exquisite torture.

Every glance would be laden with meaning; every smile would be saturated with promise and desire. Each and every minute would add tinder to silently, invisibly blazing fires of arousal until they would be permitted to burn themselves out.

Oh, will I ever be looking forward to it.

-x-

“Ah, and finally one of them returns to us!”

“I’m sorry I took so long – had a bit of a run-in with a rude customer,” Jasper beamed at their employer with a sassy grin, the tip of his tail flicking about in what seemed like smug satisfaction as he reclaimed his seat. “Seems they were in need of a lesson that humans ought to be a little bit more tolerant of other people’s ethnicities in case that other person has claws.” Grin widening slightly at one pierced corner, the albino complacently took a sip of his water as his large ears decorated with silver rings restlessly swiveled about to monitor the audio of their surroundings.

With just one look at his partner – even with all of the alcohol he’d been ingesting – Xeraph knew immediately and instinctively just what had gone on in that bathroom; while the twitch in Jasper’s tail admitted that there had been a troublesome run-in with a human, everything else about him betrayed another, more intimate encounter. From the promiscuous gaiety spilling from Jasper’s crimson irises, to the way his fingers lightly stroked the exposed flesh of his throat to the lingering glance and teasing grin with which he greeted the approaching Scotsman. Everything he needed to support his theory was right there, right in front of him staring him in the face, and he had to admit… it made his blood burn – more than it did already by natural inheritance.

The joviality that had draped itself over him in a thick, warm blanket – much like the one he was going to need tomorrow morning, knowing the kind of hangover of which he would undoubtedly be the proud recipient – lethargically slipped away as he quietly observed the younger men conversing with one another. Nothing but a cold, sharp shard was left buried in his chest as his gaze unwillingly slid towards Vincent, and, catching him the moment his petulant glare left the Scotsman, held his eyes. Xeraph knew just as well as he felt the silent conversation that passed between them just then, and there never would have been any need – not even the slightest – to read the Englishman’s mind to comprehend his thoughts on the subject.

He’d noticed and come to the same conclusion Xeraph had within a matter of seconds. The only difference was that Vincent hadn’t seen what Xeraph had in Grim’s mind – he hadn’t been hurled out onto his back with the force of a head-on car collision, and the very thought of it now made his chest ache in sympathy with his throbbing brain.

And now Jasper was getting even friendlier with Grim.

He could tolerate them making eyes at each other; the incessant flirting was something he endured with slightly gritted teeth. But this, and knowing what this would equal out to…

Even the breaches in professional etiquette aside – since he was the last person with the right to be slapping others on the wrist over it – the fact that he had told Jasper what he experienced, that he had expressed to him his concerns over it, and the fact that Jasper seemed to be quite happily ignoring everything he’d said… Not to mention the fact that he knew exactly why Jasper was going to Grim in the first place… He found there was nothing more he could do than release a muted internal sigh of disappointment.

Jasper, I thought you were past all of this. Why won’t you just listen to me? Just this once, that’s all I’m askin’, mate.

“Are you all right, Xeraph? Liquor isn’t making its comeback already, is it?”

Looking up from beneath the hand he’d never realized he’d lifted to gently knead his forehead, Xeraph found himself nearly incapable of forcing a careless, lop-sided grin to his lips as he quietly regarded his fair-haired employer and shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine. Thought just struck me, that’s all.”

The blonde settled back in his seat with a quirky smirk, his emerald eyes dark and misty, as he idly fingered the rim of his fired clay cup. “Seems like there’s a lot of that happening tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

“Most definitely. Too much, actually. Oi, sheila, could I be a bother and gank whatever this fine gent’s having, please?”

-x-

“It’s chilly out tonight,” Grim murmured, casting a wandering gaze over the nearby streetlamps as he sniffed and followed Jasper up the slick stone steps to the townhouse he shared with Xeraph.

“Tell me about it.” Glancing over his shoulder with a smirk – his breath escaping his pierced lips in a frail plume of mist – Jasper searched his pockets for his keys and fit them into the numerous locks on the front door. “Good thing you’ll be keeping me nice ‘n warm tonight then, eh, otherwise I’d be all huddled up in my bed freezing.”

Releasing a hushed chuckle into the chill night air, Grim leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to the soft flesh beneath the demon’s feline ear. “Mm, can’t have that,” he huskily purred.

Giggling and wincing away from his mouth when he daintily nipped at the bottom cartilage of his ear, Jasper twisted his key in the last lock and darted through the door into the dark, balmy warmth within.

“You know, I still can’t believe you actually used the excuse that someone was being racist,” Grim grinned, lightly shaking his head as he absently fingered his cold car keys in his pocket and followed the demon into the vacant townhouse.

Closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but remain implicitly aware of the feline’s every move; the way he tossed his decorative keychain onto the side table, the fluid motion of his torso as Jasper shrugged out of his down jacket – abandoning it carelessly on the same scarred wooden surface – and the slender line of his extended wrist as he flicked on the nearest set of homey golden lights.

“Yeah, well, part of it was true,” the demon innocently sniffed with a feigned indignation, sweeping past Grim as he finished toeing off his shoes and nudged them aside. “The guy that left just as you came in kept staring at me, so I did his negligent mother a favor and taught him that it’s bad manners to gawk at people just because they look different.” He shot a mischievous crimson glance back over his shoulder as he peeled off his blazer and dropped it on one of the stools in the kitchen. “The rest was your fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Grim lethargically rumbled, brows casually arched in mock skepticism. Listening with a fond ear to the demon’s curt, melodic hum of affirmation, he permitted himself – for the moment – to simply lean on the island, observing the albino’s feline movements about the kitchen with a faint smile playing about on his lips.

“Yup, all your fault,” Jasper contently chirped again, looking over his narrow, white-clad shoulder at him from the sink as he filled up a tall glass of water. “By the way, you want something to drink? I think Sparky had some vodka or whiskey or something ‘round here if that’s more to your liking. Or, y’know, milk, if you want that.”

God, the way that ear cocked towards him at the sound of his voice was adorable; it was impossible for Grim to resist the temptation to quietly shamble up behind the white-haired thief, to wrap his arms around that narrow waist and steal the moment his head was tilted for a drink to kiss that long, smooth throat, relishing the sensation of movement beneath his mouth. “Mm, no, thank you,” he purred, trailing his lips down Jasper’s warm neck as the young man finished his water, chuckled, and grinned. “But there are other things that I’d like – very much, as a matter of fact – to have my mouth on.” Whispering into the demon’s feline ear, he couldn’t resist gingerly brushing his lips against the soft, downy fur covering the back of that frail shell as a slow smile bloomed upon his face.

Lightly nipping at the edge of the flexible tissue, he supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it flicked and a laughed protest erupted from Jasper before his ear flattened and he winced away once more from Grim’s mouth; he knew exactly how ticklish his little albino’s ears were, in both his human and demon form… but there were just some times when he couldn’t resist the appeal of making him squirm.

After all it was one of his guilty pleasures, watching his lovers squirm.

The demon set his glass aside and spun in his embrace, linking his arms around his neck as he beamed up at him with a sly, feline smirk. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Jasper impishly purred, his smirk widening as the tip of his pierced tongue swept out and wet the corner of his lips, a gesture so suddenly erotic that it made everything within Grim lurch and groan with yearning. “But would you mind terribly if I took a shower first? I smell like restaurant.”

Grinning, Grim affectionately nuzzled his nose into the albino’s fragrant hair, spilling over his face in choppy, chunked strands, and kissed his temple. “I’m not complaining. You still smell ravishing to me.”

Jasper pulled away with a lop-sided grin and a roll of his eyes. “And you’re still human,” he lightly snorted, his fond smile remaining snugly upon soft lips as he ran them through his teeth once again. His voice dropped to a mellifluous, if somewhat meekly vain, murmur, “And I don’t really want to smell like twenty different kinds of cheese, potatoe and steak when we’re having sex. A cat’s got their pride, after all, and even besides that… It’s a good way to kill the mood.” Fixing him with a moody pout, Jasper idly played with the shaggy strands of Grim’s hair at the nape of his neck until a muted chuckle split his lips in a smile.

“And if I say I don’t care?” Grim jestingly inquired, his brows raised into two lazy arches as he peered down at the albino and gave his ass a light squeeze.

“I’m gonna go have my shower anyways,” the demon haughtily fired back, his voice laced through with laughter, his head poised high and to the side in pride; his entire body pressed itself flush against Grim’s as he peeked at him from the corner of his garnet irises. “But I know you’ll let me,” Jasper grinned, stretching up on his toes to melt his mouth against Grim’s own, “Right?”

Smiling against Jasper’s warm lips, Grim’s fingers found themselves instinctively drawing languid, intricate patterns on the small of the demon’s back beneath the fabric of his dress-shirt. “By all means,” he whispered gently into their kiss. “After all I’ve got no reason to object – I’m sure you’re just as delectable wet as you are dry, if not more.”

Pulling back with a sassy, dubious grin on his mouth and dancing in his glimmering eyes, Jasper chuckled. “Wet pussycat? You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” Jasper smirked, breaking free from his embrace and twining their fingers as he led Grim away from the sink. They felt so frail, so small, when melted against his own, like the fingers of an artist, or a musician – not like the rough, calloused hands Grim had received from work. Hell, the bandages he wore now were a testament of their own how much suffering he put such seemingly fragile extremities through.

Then again, he mutely acknowledged, he’d been doing a lot more than just stealing in the last couple of years. A lot more that had left him with scars and calluses both seen and unseen – but this couldn’t have been farther from an appropriate time to start brooding over something so unavoidably depressing. Not when he was so close to tumbling into warm, fragrant sheets with the little lynx that had been teasing him all day long.

Silently marveling the contrasting tones of their flesh, melded at the hands as Jasper led him upstairs – the stairwell shrouded so thickly in shadows that Grim could see almost nothing but the white beacon of the demon ahead – he forced his mind to move along, to entertain the thought of the events to come instead of those that had already passed long ago.

The albino had said his partner figured he was in heat again… that had to be a good omen for their night together. Grim couldn’t honestly remember with any great deal of accuracy the last time they’d had a tryst like this, but those times Jasper had made no indication of such a thing, and even then he was as feral and zealous as any other young tomcat his age. For a notion like this – his being ‘in heat’ – to suddenly spring up…

Oddly enough, the first and predominantly only thought that immediately rose to the surface of his conscious awareness was, I thought males didn’t go into heat. Sure, Jasper’s effeminate, but he’s definitely male. I’ve been with him enough to know that there haven’t been any sex changes or anything screwed up like that. His inner self thoughtfully drummed three of its fingers on its chin as it pondered away in its corner. I’ll have to get him to explain this whole thing to me… Later, though, he concluded, keenly observing the subtle sway in the demon’s hips as he climbed the last of the stairs and looked back to him with a wide, catty grin. Definitely, definitely later.

He couldn’t help but return Jasper’s grin. That good mood was setting in again, and why the hell shouldn’t it?

Obediently following the demon as he led him by his hand into the bedroom, Grim was defenseless against the way Jasper’s light, brushing kiss wiped his mind of everything save his soft lips as he gently pushed him down to the bed. Tugging the albino into his lap as he sat, relishing the feeling of his warm thighs straddling his lap in the darkness, Grim skimmed the backs of his knuckles over a pale, flushing cheek and kissed him again.

Huskily chuckling, the demon leaned away, staring entranced into his eyes for one brief moment before he grinned and returned to Grim’s smirking mouth. “Mm,” he hummed, breaking away once more only for Grim to follow his lips’ retreat. “Gonna go shower… be right back, okay?”

“What if I don’t want to let you go?” Grim smirked into Jasper’s lips, adoring the sensation their brushing tongues fired into his heart and the heat it stirred in the pit of his stomach.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” the demon purred, his voice honey-sweet in its breathlessness as he stroked a path of warmth over Grim’s chest. “And you wouldn’t like that, would you?”

“Who knows, maybe I will.”

Smirking and releasing a throaty laugh into their kiss, Jasper lightly nipped at his lower lip and retreated for the last time, taking the heat from his body with him as he slid fluidly and without resistance from Grim’s lap. “I won’t be long,” he smiled, “so be good, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.” Pulling a devilish grin onto his lips, Grim casually leaned back onto his elbows on Jasper’s mattress, watching him disappear into the thin slash of illumination symbolizing the bathroom door before it vanished and cast him into shadow. At the very least the light from the hall continued to spill in through the only other doorway left, gently pushing aside the terrors that lurked, thrived, in the absolute darkness.

Allowing his smirk to fade as the sound of cascading water occupied the room, Grim heaved a sigh and permitted his body to flop limply onto the demon’s bed. It wasn’t as though he suddenly began to regret his choice – and even if the smallest fraction of him found that it was, he probably would’ve savagely beaten it into conforming with his greater being – but… he could feel it, deep within the very marrows of his being, how something was beginning to shift, to twitch the dust from its coat and restlessly pace through the dark, empty corridors of his soul. Unease, maybe – but for what reason was there any need, any reason, to worry?

Somehow he just couldn’t imagine Xeraph and Vincent suddenly storming up the stairwell and into Jasper’s room spitting fire and brimstone. They were both at least four years his and Jasper’s senior, true, but they weren’t really that old.

Perhaps that wasn’t the thought that had abruptly roused this discomfort. Then again, it wasn’t really discomfort at all, now that he took a moment to consider it. It was more…

He picked out the Englishman’s form amongst his blankets. He’d curled onto his side during the night, his legs pale, crooked pillars tangled in clean hunter-green sheets; his arms, the ones too slender to look as though they could slap someone with such force – although Grim knew full and well what they were capable of – were poised delicately before him. Long, narrow fingers brushed against the bleached strands of hair dusting over Graves’ forehead, while their brothers were limply arched on the mattress at his side. The dark fans of his lashes stood out against his pale cheekbones in sharp relief as he padded to the Englishman’s bedside, the frigid glass of water caught loosely in his hand.

There was no denying it – Graves was beautiful. He was almost too beautiful, if one took his gender into account – all slender, graceful limbs and carefully shaped angles. Yet, somehow, in spite of his effeminacy, there was still something strong, something poignant about him that emphasized his male genes.

Keeping a well-trained eye on Graves’ expression, he cautiously edged his fingertips closer to his hot flesh until he felt it burning against his touch. Enthralled with its silken texture, he unconsciously drew the tips of his middle and ring fingers down the muscled line of the blonde’s pallid abdomen, watching how the flush marring the bridge of the older man’s nose seemed to darken, how his brows furrowed and his soft lips parted. Drawing a faint, delicate design around the Englishman’s navel, Grim’s very breaths were caught within his chest when another hushed moan escaped Graves’ throat. There was something dangerously erotic, he noticed, about the way the Englishman mutely tilted his head to the side, pressing it closer to the wrinkled surface of his sheets…

Ah, yes – that was it.

There was no denying it, now, how part of him could all but see his partner in that washroom, his acerbic little Englishman in that shower stall smoothing his sodden hair back from his face, damp tendrils of it falling over his shoulders, spilling down his naked back in a bleached blonde and black cascade. Dark lashes would flutter against fine cheekbones flushed a heady pink from the steam, and water-beaded lips that were of the perfect fullness for a man so disciplined, so severe, would purse before parting with a muted breath of pleasure. He wanted – so badly in that moment he could have died from want alone – to smell Vincent on the covers warming beneath his body; he wanted to smell his earthy musk, his clean sweat, every scent that rode on him as a human being.

For one aching instant when he closed his eyes, he could have deluded himself almost entirely, imagining with precise accuracy the Englishman’s bedroom. The white queen-size bed placed with its head to the white brick opposite of the bedroom door and the very mirror where Grim had seen him braiding his hair this evening; the tall windows lining the left-hand wall that looked out over the city, and the gauzy white drapes that would drift in the breeze he knew Vincent so loved to linger in, gazing pensively at the outside world, when he couldn’t sleep. The wooden bathroom door, as pristinely white as anything else in the room, was always partially ajar, while the slatted entrance for the man’s walk-in closet – a few scant paces to the left – was always closed.

God, he could very nearly feel the warmth of the illumination on his skin, the delicate, golden phosphorescence sweeping in cone-like rays up the brick wall on either side of Vincent’s bed and catching on the subdued canvas paintings that sat in their way. Two pieces, each one a half of the other, depicting black silhouetted trees stripped bare of their leaves and enshrouded in a lonely night mist. On the left shone the moon, sending dappled rays down through naked, withered branches; in the right, a lover waited, illuminated only by the light from the stars and the haze of the fog as they curled, as vulnerable as a newborn, within the embrace of the tree’s roots.

If he could have, he would have crossed that welcoming white carpet, would have gently pushed the bathroom door open and enveloped himself within the steam to take that wet body from its bath and stroke the hair back from its face; he would have given anything to kiss the lips and the lids that had commissioned paintings so filled with a barren desolation, hopeless longing, and bitter loneliness. If he could have, he would have whispered into those lips that he knew that hell; that he had walked through it each and every day he woke up breathing until the evening he’d passed through the cold glass doors to a masquerade ball that had offered him the chance, the meager, frail possibility, of a fraction of a new life.

As his body shifted, rolling himself onto his side and his legs drawing themselves into him, Grim felt a bitter smile pluck at the edges of his lips. Here he laid imagining and visualizing all of these things so clearly, and yet what was he actually doing? Waiting for a soul just as despondent and miserable as his own to lift a mirrored weight from his shoulders, even if only for one night. An irrational and uncommon shame pressed its deathly cold hand to his chest as his mind wandered beyond the wood separating himself and Jasper, wondering if the demon even realized the irony of what they’d been doing.

Both felt a love, a longing, for someone who could not or would not return it, and so they leaned on each other for support, for the fulfillment and satisfaction of their fantasies… their yearnings.

Christ Jesus… the very definition of low, his thoughts muttered to themselves. How’d I ever get to be so pathetic?

“Caleb…”A warm palm touched itself to his cheek, roughened fingers gently stroking, calming, the round pad of a calloused thumb wiping terrified tears from his lashes as he clung to that comforting, soothing heat. “It’s all right, Caleb – I’m here, and I always will be. I won’t let anything hurt you ever again, understand? These nightmares, these memories… everything we have to deal with now… Caleb, just say the word, and I will be your Pandora’s Box.”

Clenching his eyes shut tight against the legion of nightmares that swarmed on the outskirts of his thoughts, hoping, praying, that such a simple action would keep them at bay, Grim nearly jolted from the sheets when the water’s flow ceased, when he heard the familiar creak of a warped glass door open and slight, wet feet stepping onto chill tile. Sniffling back the waves of tainted memories warring in the very blackest pits of his mind, he pushed himself up onto an elbow just in time for a slash of light to cut through the darkness, spilling a fragrant steam across the soft carpeted floor.

And for just one split second, he saw that familiar pale, creamy skin overlaying the albino’s beneath his plush yellow bathrobe; a tall, lanky shape superimposed itself over that of Xeraph’s partner. And for just one split second, he thought he saw those same icy blue eyes of endless depth peering at him, reading his very soul, from beneath a fold of towel.

“Cal-”

“Grim?” Jasper’s voice, hushed and uncertain, instantaneously became a rock to shatter the mirror of the abandoned life that had struggled once more to overthrow his new reality. The illusion fell away from the demon’s petite, limber figure like shards of glass as he minutely frowned in the light and steam of the doorway and continued to gently towel his snowy hair. “Are… you all right?” With but another few steps towards him, his arms lowering, Grim could clearly distinguish Jasper’s fine, feline features from within the shadows. “If you’ve changed your mind –”

Grim shook his head to purge himself of the last of the whispering, hissing demons. “No… no,” he murmured again, struggling to soften the desperation that had suddenly taken to his voice. The last thing I want right now is to be alone. Finally forcing a smile onto his lips, he commanded that his eyes take in all of who Jasper was, to love and desire him for it, to allow the sight and smell of him to banish the thoughts of anything else that sought to lay siege on his mind. “No, I’m fine.” Just make me forget everything I am and help me feel like a human being tonight, Jasper… please, I beg of you.

But the demon persisted to linger awkwardly before him, only a few strides away – placing a minor gap between them that suddenly seemed like a never-ending chasm – until Jasper ran his supple lower lip through his teeth and pulled his towel from his head; darkened garnet irises darted to the floor, peeking shyly up at him every few moments that passed. “Grim, if you have changed your mind,” the albino softly whispered, his long-fingered hands wrapped perilously around the edges of the cloth draped around his neck, “all you have to do is say so. I-I won’t be angry – I mean…” a muted, slightly forced chuckle escaped his slight frame. “After all, this is hardly what I’d call… conventional behavior between co-workers, I guess.” A shrug drenched in strained carelessness lifted Jasper’s shoulders and a helpless smile touched at the pierced corners of his lips, “Who could blame you for feeling awkward in that kind of situation?”

Taking in the way Jasper’s silken ears had slowly cocked themselves back against his head, the diffidence raging rampant in his eyes and the limp, dejected poise of his tail, Grim felt himself as though from far away call a comforting grin to his lips as he pushed himself off of the demon’s bed and went to him. He looks so young, standing there like that – a shy, despondent little kitten, waiting for someone to love him.

Embracing his warm, wet figure – his grin widening at the way Jasper’s oversized bathrobe created such a soft bulk around his slender figure – Grim affectionately nuzzled past the damp strands of snowy white hair and pressed a soothing kiss to his pale forehead. “It’s nothing, kitten,” he purred, serenely combing his fingers through sodden ivory locks. “If I’d changed my mind, d’you think I’d still be here?”

“No,” Jasper weakly murmured, curling his arms between their chests and leaning his fragrant body into Grim’s.

“Exactly.” If he’d had half a heart, Grim could’ve sworn that the way Jasper nuzzled under his chin just then to place a sweet kiss to his throat would have lit it on fire. He felt nothing now, though, but a frail, smoldering affection, a guardian-like protectiveness of this small, seemingly fragile demon huddled in his arms. And for a moment, nothing in the entirety of the world could have forced him to believe that Jasper was almost nine whole months older than he and far more promiscuous besides. “Mm, y’smell good, Jasper,” he whispered into his hair, inhaling the rich, citrusy aroma enveloping the albino’s figure. A teasing smirk twitched at the edges of his lips, “I’m looking forward to seeing what this shower’s done to the rest of you right now.”

“Then why don’t you get this robe off me and take a look, hmm?” Faced with a drowsy, desiring smile and heady crimson irises, it would have been impossible for Grim not to kiss those sweet, tempting lips, pulling on the towel draped around Jasper’s neck and – as an arm wound itself around the demon’s waist – letting it fall limply to the carpet at their feet.

It, like the rest of his little cat-boy’s bathrobe, wasn’t going to be missed. Not… at… all.

-x-

“And… ding!”

Unable to stifle the laugh that escaped at the sight of the fiery-eyed demon’s high-kicking nazi step out of the elevator car, Vincent shook his head with a fond smile and hooked a rogue black lock of hair behind his ear, following briefly – and much more gracefully, he thought – in the man’s wake. “You are so unbelievably pissed right now, you know that, yeah?”

Emphatically batting away his observation with a snort, Xeraph failed to notice the rather impressive pothole in front of him before he planted his foot in it, tripped, stumbled, and, in a flurry of jacket and scarf, whipped around as he caught his balance to point an accusatory finger at it. “That was not there when I first got out of the car!” Straightening himself once more with the sea-legged grace of none other than Captain Jack Sparrow himself, the Aussie leaned down to him, his sparking eyes twinkling in good humor and his sunglasses shoved up into his hair. “Y’know what the problem is? People who drive vehicles that’re too bloody fuckin’ heavy and blocky like those fuckin’ new…” A single finger circled in mid-air as his gaze wandered, “Lincoln Navigators!” Giving one of the conveniently present, heavy-set vehicles a firm kick to the bumper scant seconds before Vincent had a chance to dart over to the teetering demon and drag him away with a laughing reprimand, Xeraph sent the luxury SUV a dirty glare that he was almost certain could have melted the chrome right off of its shiny black surface had the walking fireball been sober enough to actually think about it.

“I concur that the things are rather unsightly and garish indeed,” Regarding the massive moving grille with a minute grimace of his own as they passed it by, Vincent tightened his grip on Xeraph’s arm and tucked his jacket closer about him to stave off the night-time chill. “But let’s not make a habit of kicking in the bumpers of people who typically happen to have large sums of money readily on hand and at least five different lawyers with the habit of prolifically lying and exaggerating everything that comes out of their ass, all right?”

“Y’know if you could give me five minutes mate to get me brains back together I’d bet you your next paycheck that I could melt the chrome right off of that repugnant… offence to all things of beautiful vehicular design.”

Turning a bright, cheeky grin up to the man still fuming back at the black Lincoln, Vincent airily patted his arm and continued on. “Why bet my next paycheck when we can bet yours?” He saccharinely cooed, with perhaps a bit of a buzzed bat of his lashes. “After all you do make more money than I do.”

As was expected, Xeraph’s glittering irises flickered towards him in the dark chill of the parkade and he sluggishly shook his hands – index and little fingers both raised – as though to ward the fact away. “No, no, see, there’s a problem with that, mate.” In one amazingly smooth move, the demon lurched down to him and somehow maneuvered an arm around his shoulders, tugging him in close as Vincent giggled. “I have this thing in my house… ‘s called a ‘Jasper’, savvy? Savvy?” Xeraph licked his lips, and Vincent couldn’t help but laugh in amusement as the demon peered off into the distance, his outstretched hand closing into a decisive, emphatic fist as he spoke, and his free fingers restlessly waggled on the shoulder of his jacket. “It likes sniffing out my paycheck and sucking that money – that hard-earned income – right out of me pocket before I even get a chance to put it in the bank.”

Xeraph straightened, but his arm remained right where it was, contently curled around his shoulders with his large, warm bronze hand soon draping itself over onto his chest. “Oh I’m sure he’s not all that bad,” Vincent murmured with a humoring roll of his eyes, shivering only lightly as a chilly breeze drifted through the concrete underground parkade to slither down the back of his neck. ‘Twas a sad heating system they had down here – a very sad one indeed and Vincent was remembering the exact reason now why he so disliked being out and about late at night in the winter next to the coast. The daylight hours weren’t so bad… after sundown it quickly became an entirely other story.

“Then I’ll give ‘im t’you and see how you like ‘im,” the demon moodily snorted. “Like the wife I never had or will have, that one. Thanks be to god.” Laughing once more as his ex-partner pulled a mask of absolute reverence onto his bronze face and made the sign of the cross – only backwards, and with his left hand – Vincent sniffled back a brief breath and swept his gaze around the parking lot. Before he could even think to ask which vehicle they were even looking for, as he saw no signs whatsoever of Xeraph’s typical black 2006 Coupe Corvette, the demon suddenly spoke up once again. “’Re you cold, Vince?” But when his husky voice came close and hot against the sensitive flesh of his ear, it would have been next to impossible for Vincent not to flinch in surprise.

“Jesus, Xeraph, don’t scare me like that!” He protested, his petulant words carrying far more easily than he would have liked as he forced his hand to loosen the white-knuckled grip it’d attained around the folds of his jacket.

“Sorry,” the demon sheepishly grinned. “Th’ attempt wasn’t intentional mate but the question still stands.” As the lop-sided grin softened, flickering irises slid towards him and flitted up to the ceiling, as though suspiciously watching for overhead cameras that might eavesdrop on their conversation. “The heating’s shit in down here and I keep tellin’ Mel to tell whatever bloody booners manage this place to crank it up in th’ winter but does he listen? Nah, ‘course not. What does the local fire-demon’s opinion matter? After all he just wimps out when the cold comes anyways – load of shit, when it all comes down to it. I can handle the cold just as well as any of you Canadians can.”

I think I’ll blame the exaggeration on his being drunk for the time being instead of a wounded ego. Waving away Xeraph’s somewhat rambled offer, Vincent softly smiled and shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you, but I would like to know what we’re looking for so when I see it we can both head home and to bed – because I don’t know about you, but I’ve got work to do tomorrow.” When Xeraph paused in his tracks, that feverishly warm hand trailing away from its perch on his shoulder, Vincent turned back only to see the demon skeptically eyeing his figure, running his lower lip through his teeth and wagging a finger as though in thought; he raised his brows and cocked his head at him. “Is something wrong, Xeraph?” Straightening, his gut sank with an unpleasant possibility and a slight grimace curled in his lips, “You’re not going to be sick, are you?” After all, a similar action had preceded such an event before; one moment the redhead had been up and about and joking as normally as any drunk demon could, and then an instant later he’d been keeled over behind a pillar vomiting up his dinner.

Ironically next to a Lincoln Navigator.

It certainly hadn’t been what Vincent liked to think of as one of his ex-partner’s more memorable moments… Unless it served to annoy him with the morning after. That had always been fun, and more often than not it had also served the dual purpose of lessening the pain of his own hangovers, even if only minutely. And until Xeraph cuffed the back of his head, at which point he’d typically punch him right back.

Good days, those were, Vincent hummed to himself with a fond smile of reminiscence. None of this paranoia about my partner coming in when I’m sleeping to hump my thigh. If anything, his grin quirked the slightest bit wider at one corner as his gaze appreciatively wandered down Xeraph’s figure, it would have been the other way around.

Stroking long fingers along a sharp jaw, however, his lips pursed in the most ridiculous fashion, the Aussie simply cocked his head at him, angling it this way and that until he shrugged, wrestled his thigh-long jacket from his shoulders, and jerked his chin at him. “C’mon, getcher little pom ass over here.”

“Excuse me?”

Raising his brows, Xeraph simply held up his jacket in reply, waiting a moment or two before emphatically wiggling it.

“No, Xeraph, really, I’m not cold at all.” Despite Vincent’s protest, the demon heaved an exasperated groan – smartly accompanied by an exaggerated roll of his sparking irises – hung his head, and then impatiently waggled his coat again. “Really I’m not – and even besides that what about you? You’re even less accustomed to these temperatures!”

With another dramatically annoyed roll of his eyes, the red-haired demon quickly closed the scant distance between them and swung the heavy jacket over his shoulders; trying his very best to ignore the way the heat rushed to his face at the realization of how dwarfed he felt in Xeraph’s clothing, Vincent focused on the intense warmth left over from the demon’s body that had clung to the fabric. Immediately he felt something within him melt, unconsciously accepting the gesture as he tucked it around himself. It’s so warm…

“I’ve got plenty of body heat to spare,” The redhead succinctly muttered. “And besides that, what about you? You’re the human here – proud though you may be, you’ve got a weaker immune system than I do.” The heavy weight of Xeraph’s firmly muscled arm came down on his shoulders again as he started them back on their course, and Vincent felt the flush marring his cheeks deepen when the demon leaned into his ear once more. “And even that aside, given my last sober memory of what happened last when you last got sick, I don’t really want it to happen again and therefore I won’t let it if there’s anything I have to say ‘bout it,” Xeraph whispered. “So suck it up, Vinny-kins.”

Feeling himself flush yet further at the indignation the nickname aroused, Vincent figured there wasn’t much else he’d be able to get away with if Xeraph continued to hold him so close to his side, so he feebly attempted to satisfy him by simply fuming within the depths of the man’s furnace-like coat. And he’d be damned before he openly admitted that it slowly began to banish the chill that had been steadily seeping into his bones since they’d left the elevator.

Even so, his mind couldn’t help but persist in racing back to the weight of the demon’s arm slung companionably around his shoulders, absently taking note of the way his heart suddenly began to beat faster at the man’s close proximity and the hot memory of his breath against his ear. He’s drunk, Vincent, and so are you, his rational self muttered. You know it’s a plain fact that he’s a ten-beer queer and I’d hate to imagine by how much he’s surpassed that tonight. A soft, muted sigh just barely managed to escape him before he managed to pounce on it and smother it. Even so… This is a bit awkward, especially given that – for whatever reason – I somehow wound up flirting with him, and… He stole a fleeting glimpse of the demon’s finely sculpted bronze face as they strolled through the rows of vehicles. No. No! Not attractive! Not attracted, more over! No! Bad body! I know you’re lonely, but using him of all people as an outlet is most definitely not the answer!

But the demon wouldn’t have a qualm in the world with the fact that he was a man, right now – he wouldn’t have a qualm in the world with Vincent gently pressing himself against him, or stretching up and kissing those fine, smirking lips…

No! Oh for the love of bleedin’ Christ on the cross, no! His mind screeched at itself. You haven’t bedded anyone or been bedded properly without it ending catastrophically in the last three months and that’s all it is. That… is… all, understand? And you will not take advantage of Xeraph when he’s drunk just to satisfy some apparent internal nymphomaniac because you know that he wouldn’t care about genders right now!

Being said like that, though… he had to admit that it did make for a rather tempting – wait. No!

The second they came around a bend in the concrete parking lot, however – the very instant Vincent’s dark eyes found themselves gawking at the sleek figure of a familiar, isolated crimson ’87 Coupe Corvette – each and every thought he’d been entertaining found itself systematically wiped from his awareness. His breath snagged on something in his chest as he slowed to a halt, his heart hammering against the cage of his ribs until he thought it would burst…

“Xeraph,” he uttered, his voice coming out shaky and tattered despite his best efforts to keep it level. “Is that…?”

But he’d no need to even finish what he’d been saying. A lazy smirk painted itself on the fire demon’s face when his wandering gaze landed on the old corvette. “Ah…” he drawled, “there she is. I was wondering where she’d gone off to.”

Wide eyes snapped up to his ex-partner’s visage the instant the mist from his voice faded away. “You kept her?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did,” Xeraph snorted, pinning him to the spot with a dubious lop-sided grin. “Why would I want to get rid of her? She’s a good car and she’s got good memories written all over her.”

Within scant moments he found himself within arms’ reach of the very car in which he recalled so clearly speeding away from the cops, loitering outside of the homes of the rich and unsuspecting… Breaking away from his ex-partner, reverently walking along the old corvette’s side, his palm gently stroking the surface of her hood as one would the flesh of their lover, Vincent could permit only the slightest of breaths to escape through the vice that had secured itself around his throat and clenched it shut tight. Nothing had changed about the old girl since their partnership had been extinguished; her paint was still pristine and clean, a deep blood red that so often resembled her demonic owner’s hair. There were no chips, no rust, nothing that would even dare to hint at the slightest trace of abuse or neglect. Her windshield was devoid of the spidery web of cracks that stray rocks or a rough escape had often marred it with, and beyond that, gazing through the weak, sickly yellow light supplied overhead, the black leather interior looked just as welcoming and well-kept as it had always been.

With his fingertips lightly dancing over the door’s handle, Vincent couldn’t help but bend to gaze inside, his eyes sweeping appreciatively over the bucket seats he could almost see himself and Xeraph occupying as they sped away from another successful heist. Straightening and pensively taking note of the pang of poignant nostalgia, he glanced back over his shoulder at the demon waiting behind him, his hands tucked patiently in his pockets, watching his every move and reaction with glittering irises and a warm, amiable grin.

Chuckling with a vague embarrassment under his breath to be witnessed all but drooling over the vehicle, Vincent meekly tucked a rogue lock of hair behind his ear and shot another implicative glance at the car. “Would you mind…?” To complete the implication, he gently nodded his head at the corvette; it would have been nigh impossible to keep his mouth from curving into the hopeful curl that it did.

Xeraph only laughed, however, stepping forward to genially open the door for him, bending minutely at the waist and waving him in with a smile. “Allow me,” He grinned. “I was startin’ to wonder how long it’d take for you to ask – not like you’d really any need to.” He added with a lethargic shrug as Vincent laughed and slid into the chill leather seat. “She’s as much yours as she is mine, after all.”

Lovingly running his palms around the rim of the wheel, adoring the feeling of the cool material beneath his skin, Vincent suddenly realized that he must have been grinning like a fool and fought to wrestle the smile from his mouth as he glanced up at the redhead leaning casually on the open door – though for some reason the instant he did that, his lips curled once more. “No, it’s better that you own her – I would’ve… oh god…” Breathily sighing the last sparse words of his statement as his mind imagined what could’ve happened had Xeraph not retained ownership of her, Vincent smiled once again and nodded as he licked the corner of his lips. “It’s most definitely better that she’s yours. I would have ended up abusing her something fierce.”

Glancing up at the demon’s loud, incredulous snort, another laugh was jostled from Vincent’s chest when he saw the stern expression on his ex-partner’s face. “I’ll grant you that you’re a downright hellish driver on your best day, but you’re not bad enough to warrant the need for a thought like that. After what this ol’ gal’s been through...” A soft mist took to Xeraph’s sparking eyes – the grin in his mouth diminishing to a nostalgic quirk – as he lovingly stroked her frame; a veritable eternity seemed to pass in his gaze before it retracted to twinkle at Vincent in the shadows. “She’d probably be able to take anything you can throw at her and still treat ya kindly at the end of the day.”

Absently trailing his fingers over the stick-shift, Vincent grinned and thoughtfully nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.” When his touch came to brush gently against the slot for the ignition, his heart giving an excited little shiver, Vincent felt another memory teasing the brunt of his temptations. “May I-”

He glanced up to see the keys dangling from a long set of bronze fingers, Xeraph’s broad smirk hovering in the background. “Don’t even hafta ask, mate.”

Feeling a hot flush rushing to his cheeks at the notion of his predictability, Vincent bowed his head and let a single amused titter drift out into the silence as he humbly accepted his ex-partner’s offering. He had to admit, as well, that – even if only for the briefest of moments – he wanted to let his fingers linger against Xeraph’s warm caramel skin, to take his hand and bring it and its heat into his chest and hold it there. After all, that warmth was just another thing that hadn’t changed over the years; not in Xeraph’s personality nor in his flesh, and every time it had left Vincent yearning to curl against him, long arms protectively encircling his body, as he fell asleep.

Such a thing had been a fantasy then and the circumstances hadn’t changed since, albeit now he found it painfully necessary to provide himself with a reminder.

The instant he heard the roar of the old corvette’s motor, however, echoing beautifully within their concrete surroundings, a sharp, nearly orgasmic pleasure shot through his veins as he laid his hands on her wheel, his head lolling back against the seat with a hushed moan, biting the corner of his lower lip and allowing his lids to flutter shut. “She still sounds like a lioness, Xeraph,” he breathily murmured, his heart pounding furiously against his chest as he caressed the leather-bound wheel. “That’s beautiful…” he whispered. “I can’t believe she’s still in such good shape. I thought for sure when our partnership was, eh…” Faltering at a loss as his mind scrambled after an appropriate word to describe what had ended their professional relationship, Vincent’s eyes were drawn up to his ex-partner’s placid face as the demon languidly found it for him.

“Executed.”

Reminded vividly of the double-edged mix of emotions that had rampaged through him when Cervantes broke them apart – relief, laden thick with a hidden misery and defiance – Vincent returned his gaze quietly to the car’s wheel and nodded with a faint, mirthless smile. “It’s a bit more dramatic than what I’d had in mind, but all the same I suppose it’s accurate. In any case, I was almost certain that you’d take her in to sell or-”

“Why in the hell would I want to do that?” Xeraph laughed; when Vincent glanced up at him again, he felt his heart clench at the sight of the demon foppishly shrugging, a modest grin marking his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean sure she’s long overdue for an oil change, but overall she’s been taken good care of and in turn she’s taken good care of me. Besides,” sparse strands of crimson escaped the barrier of Xeraph’s sunglasses and wandered into his face as he cocked his head onto a fist with a thoughtful smile, “like I already said she’s got good memories in ‘er. Wouldn’t trade those in for the world and wouldn’t dare sell ‘em to some spoiled little brat just so they can run ‘em into a wall.” Laughing as the demon concluded his statement with a distasteful grimace and droning tone overlying his accented and expressive voice, Vincent felt his cheeks warm in the shadows at the thought that…

Well, perhaps some part of him had been longing for a sign that Xeraph had treasured the better days of their partnership as he had. True, he’d taken quite fondly to reacting with hostility when the demon was around – such as the day of that horrid corporate Halloween party – but his reasoning for that, since their severance, was to keep himself from falling victim to the same charm he had the first time; to think the absolute possible worst of Xeraph to make sure that he wouldn’t unwittingly walk into the same damned void he’d fought so hard to free himself from.

He’d wished things had gone differently, yes, but he’d never regretted being the man’s partner.

Maybe his only regret had been falling for the wrong man, the wrong demon, and botching everything up in seemingly every way he’d been able to back then – not consciously, of course, just… inevitably.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back and tell myself never to love him. Were that possible, things wouldn’t be as they are now. His thoughts paused for a weary mental sigh, I feel so old and yet I’m barely past twenty-four.

Painfully aware of Xeraph’s flickering irises raptly trained on his face, wandering over his features and stroking his flesh with hot, nearly physical strokes that made his heart beat just the slightest bit faster, he cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure from the awkwardness of the moment that had stolen it away from him.

He knew that it was futile to try and tell himself that he didn’t enjoy the way Xeraph’s voice flowed to his ears, caressing his senses like the finest blankets of silk, but when his drawled words finally registered, Vincent felt every aspect of his being blacken and frost over.

“Why couldn’t you be a woman, Vince?”

If things had been awkward before, they’d now found themselves ambitious enough in their prior victory to roughly hoist the situation up to being downright uncomfortable. Or cast it down into the very deepest pits of Awkward-Hell.

Frowning as he cast a bewildered glance up at his ex-partner, leaning on the corvette’s door with a wistful mist softening his gaze, Vincent commanded his mind to revisit what he thought he’d just heard the man say. He couldn’t have… No, he must have misheard. The car was distracting him, muddling words already marred by the fact that Xeraph was completely and utterly plastered. Silencing the motor, he hesitated a moment before he stepped out of the car and, acutely aware of the way the demon moved away to allow him the clearance he needed, shut the door. His hands didn’t know what to do as they hung idly at his sides; nonetheless, one lifted to chafe his brow in exasperated befuddlement while the other braced itself on his hip.

“I’m sorry I must be hearing things,” he muttered with a self-deprecating grin, hoping to all that was good in the world that he was and what he thought he’d heard was simply that… a misunderstanding. “But… what did you say just now?” He apprehensively peered up at the Australian convict with narrowed, incredulous brown eyes.

Sure, he’d been doing some fantasizing of his own not but five whole minutes ago, but this… This was just… There wasn’t even a word for this!

The fact that Xeraph’s entire body adopted an air of gauche discomfort aided in nothing more than the support of the truth he so dreaded. Rubbing the back of his neck once again, a lop-sided grin found itself spread neatly along that fine bronze mouth, and those abashedly dimmed eyes wandered to the concrete at their feet before they dared to match his gaze. “I was just kinda thinking out loud, y’know? I-I mean…” Xeraph’s embarrassed grin widened and as he chafed his fingertips over his forehead, a deep breath pulling itself into his lungs, Vincent’s heart painfully twisted. Hand dropping, the demon stuffed them into his pockets, licked his lips, and dragged a wandering gaze around the parkade until he returned his attention to him. “This would all be so much less complicated if you were a woman, to be honest.”

His heart speeding even faster than before, Vincent ran his lip through his teeth as his mind valiantly strained to make sense of what the demon was saying to him. Uncomfortably aware of the way his fingers had begun to shake, he inhaled a long, slow pull of the crisp winter air. “I… I don’t understand, Xeraph, I have to admit.” Dark eyes were restless as they darted about their surroundings, able only to rest on the demon’s sincere face for a few moments before he felt something within him lurch and shudder that made him look away once again. “What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Staring intently into the flames of his ex-partner’s irises, Vincent’s gaze ran itself over the jagged scars born from shards of glass that marked the left side of his face; in spite of the moment, his memory gave a sympathetic pang as it recalled the explosive events of the night Xeraph had gotten those scars. He’d always thought it a miracle that the man hadn’t lost his eye, although as things were now he’d been partially blinded on his left – a weak spot, Xeraph had grimly confessed once. If someone wanted to take him off-guard, all they had to do was piece the evidence together and strike him where his abnormally sharp vision had been compromised.

And in spite of the awkward moment occupying the present, Vincent remembered that the only reason why Xeraph had been scarred like that in the first place had been because he’d wanted to protect his vulnerable human partner.

All too suddenly overwhelmed with memories from their partnership – the touch of the Aussie’s fingers on the scar crossing his palm, the searing blood that had draped down Xeraph’s face and neck after the explosion and the times spent quietly jesting during their stakeouts being only a scant few of them – Vincent’s bones liquefied when that warm bronze hand off-handedly brushed a lock of bleached hair from his face. Were his heart capable of bursting in his chest without it killing him in the process, he was certain that it would have done so as Xeraph mutely approached him.

“Vincent,” the demon softly murmured, his touch slipping down to tenderly trail over Vincent’s burning cheek and faltering when he leaned away from it.

“Xeraph, you’re drunk and probably half-way overdosed on painkillers. You don’t know what you’re doing. I think we ought to –” Just as he turned to retreat to the other side of the car that harbored so many good, heartwarming memories, a firm grip closed around his bicep and gently pulled him to a stop.

“I think we ought to get this settled, Vincent,” the demon whispered, his irises positively ablaze, searing crimson flames around the dilated ebony slits of his pupils.

“There’s nothing to settle, Xeraph,” Vincent coolly corrected, seemingly every muscle in his body shaking as his heart drummed a furious beat in his chest. “Everything that needed to be settled was said and done when our partnership was severed. There’s nothing left.”

A frail smile tweaked at the corner of the convict’s fine lips as he shook his head and released Vincent’s arm, smoothing his fingers back over his hair as he turned away and shook his head again. “This hasn’t got anything to do with the past, Vincent, just the now.” Turning and pinning him with an unnervingly intent look, Xeraph approached him once more and laid his hands on Vincent’s biceps while he could do nothing more than watch, helplessly staring up into the demon’s eyes. “I feel for you, Vincent, alright? I don’t know if it’s sexual or purely platonic but I know there’s something there and it’s –”

Lids winced shut against the reminiscent ache that bloomed in his feverishly throbbing heart. “Xeraph, that’s not fair,” he shakily uttered under his labored breaths. “Don’t you dare play this game with me, Xeraph. Don’t you dare – I’ll not have it.” Tepid fingertips tenderly wandered over his cheekbone, and much as he yearned to cringe away, to lash out at the inebriated Australian, he hadn’t the strength when warm breaths drifted across his flesh; a palm smoothed itself down the side of his face, the hard pad of a thumb lightly grazing his lid and caressing his cheek.

“I’m not playing a game with you, Vincent. I know I’m drunk, and I know what I’m like when I drink too much and I know I’ve done that tonight,” the redhead quickly amended. “But this is the only way that I’d be able to say something like this to you, Vincent.” Despite the radical differences in height, Vincent’s throat clenched itself shut at the sensation of a burning forehead resting itself against his own. “There are so many limitations and restrictions placed on someone when they’re in their right mind – they think too much and what needs to be said often stays silent out of the fear…” Hot breaths brushed against his trembling lips as he gasped in a mouthful of cool air and closed a hand over the arm that wound itself around his waist and intimately tugged him close.

So long he’d wanted to feel Xeraph’s body against his like this, to feel the warmth of his naked flesh through the barriers of their clothing and feel the firm expanse of relentlessly trained muscles under his hands. But now… He could think of nothing else other than the notion that this shouldn’t be happening… That this wasn’t real and would all disappear in the morning…

That something in him was breaking, shattering to pieces with each phrase that escaped from Xeraph’s lips.

The Aussie’s words, when they finally came, were soft and scant breaths against his mouth. “Out of the fear that you would rightly reject me, after how I treated you,” Xeraph whispered. His palms cooling in comparison to the hot rush of blood he could all but see pulsating in his cheeks, Vincent could only lightly close his fingers around the demon’s clothed wrists when he felt the first tentative brush against his lips. An electric shiver rippled through the flesh of his mouth, rolling in a heady wave down his neck and over the rest of his body; a long hand tantalizingly combed itself through the loose locks of his blonde hair as the demon lightly caught Vincent’s lower lip between his own, and an eon seemed to pass before a scant space interrupted the melding of their mouths.

“Xeraph…” But even as he moved to break away, to deny his inebriated and delusional ex-partner yet further access to his lips, a lone finger drew a hot line down the naked flesh on the back of his neck while a gentle arm drew him into the demon’s body once more. A tepid mouth came gently against the corner of Vincent’s own, pressing a delicate kiss to his flesh seconds before a steaming tongue teasingly trailed along a scarce expanse of his lower lip and yet again, he found Xeraph’s mouth fused with his.

Not for an instant did the convict give any sign that he’d planned on retreating – and far too quickly, Vincent found that he hadn’t the strength to try to push him away.

The pressure of his hand on the small of his back, the shiver-inducing strokes along his throat, the warmth and sturdiness of Xeraph’s body against his own… all of it he’d dreamed about. All of it he’d yearned for with the entirety of his being while knowing that it would never honestly happen and forcing himself to find contentment with the redhead’s companionship.

A bolt of heat slammed itself into his body as the demon’s hot, moist tongue maneuvered itself past his lips, his teeth, and when it just lightly grazed the tip of Vincent’s, his mind and his common sense came rushing back to him.

Severing the kiss, severing the yearning mating of mouths, Vincent realized he had to struggle to lift his lids, to force his watering eyes to focus on the hovering image of his co-worker’s face – but the misery and betrayal and anger saw fit to rouse themselves on their own. With his palms lying with a strained delicacy on the demon’s shoulders, he gently eased himself out of his embrace and backed away until a safe distance resided between them. Lost, flickering flames peered at him through the sallow light, and Vincent tenderly touched his quaking fingers to his lips.

“Xeraph, maybe you can do this without seeing any error in it,” he shakily murmured, staring long and achingly at the slow, perplexed frown growing on the demon’s face. “But I can’t. I can’t do this again, because we both know that come tomorrow morning you’ll be the same as you’ve always been.” Despite his best efforts, a tiny quaver escaped into his voice as he pulled the warm jacket from around his shoulders and handed it back to the bleak-eyed Aussie. “You’re a ladies’ man, Xeraph, through and through, and I’m not a lady. I never will be. This entire thing…” Helplessly gesturing around them, Vincent sniffled and folded his arms over his chest to preserve the warmth he could feel slipping away from his body like water cupped in his hands. “It’s just a drunken fancy. Nothing more.” Progressively backing away from the demon towards the street exit, Vincent thought he felt part of his heart break when fiery irises stared lost down at the coat in his hand before they returned to his retreating figure.

“Vincent, wait-!”

“Don’t worry about driving me, Xeraph,” Vincent called back to him. “I’ll catch a taxi, and you should, too. You’re not in any shape to be behind the wheel right now.”

“Vince-!”

Pivoting on his heel, turning his back to his ex-partner and clamping a hand over his quivering, gasping mouth, Vincent deafened himself to Xeraph’s smooth, beckoning voice, blinded himself to the knowledge of the look that would be on his face as he watched him walk away. For the moment, he focused every last resource he had on the task of trying to erase the thought of the demon from his mind, to ignore his presence entirely, but as the space between them continued to grow, he could feel Xeraph’s eyes burning into his back – could feel his lips scorching their mark onto his heart – and knew that it was all for naught.

-x-

“Jasper, do you ever… feel bad, for doing this?” Sending a wondering glance down to the happily flushed albino snuggled against his chest, Grim readjusted his head on the arm folded beneath it and waited for the dozing demon’s response.

A languid smile pulled at Jasper’s pierced mouth as he nuzzled his burning face into Grim’s pectoral, a single tufted ear contently flicking and a long, full tail lethargically sweeping itself about to drape over his legs. “Mm, not really…” The albino murmured, his lightly shaded lids closed beneath the dense darkness that had persistently reigned over his bedroom throughout the course of their encounter. Slender fingers absently stroked his side as that long white arm rested across his abdomen, and, just as Grim had previously mused, created a contrast that was almost awe-worthy under the veil of shadows.

But that was hardly important, now. His lusts had been sated, crude as the notion suddenly seemed, and he’d been left with nothing other than an abnormal and unexpected shame lying thick upon his thoughts. He’d assumed that if Jasper truly cared for Xeraph as he claimed, he would have felt at least the slightest twinge of disgrace for doing something so… debauched. The warmth that had permeated even the furthest reaches of his body when they’d made love ebbed with a flaring pulse of uncommon self-reproach, and Grim found that he couldn’t have possibly kept the weakly frustrated sigh building in his chest silent. “You never…?”

The words died in his throat, hanging in the air unsaid above his casual paramour’s head of snowy, sex-tousled hair, strands strewn delicately across his chest. Jasper remained silent for a long moment as Grim’s thoughts clamored about in his head, all rushing and screaming at the top of their lungs until he couldn’t hear anything intelligible anymore from within that infernal ruckus.

A single dark eye cracked open in the shadows and sleepily glided up to him. “Something wrong?” The demon lazily inquired, his smooth, melodic voice transformed into a beautiful rasp that – under any other circumstances – would have been replied to with a sound kiss on the lips. “Your heart’s beating faster.”

Severing himself from the whirlwind of his thoughts before he found himself face to face with that grotesque specter, Grim gently shook his head and traced a slow path down the line of Jasper’s naked spine. “No, no,” he murmured, forcing a tiny fragment of the smile he’d intended onto his lips as he exhaled again. “It’s nothing.” Couldn’t be farther from that, but what kind of conversation is this to have with someone you just slept with? After all, boy-o, you’re one of the reasons why you wound up in his bed in the first place. Don’t start making him feel like shit now, too.

Soft lips pressed a light, absent kiss to his chest. “You sure?”

Smoothing a hand back over Jasper’s disheveled hair, lightly stroking him with his fingertips behind one of those large feline ears, Grim injected more sincerity into his smile and bent his lips to the top of his head. “Aye.” The knot in his stomach should have loosened when the demon began to purr, resting his cheek once more over Grim’s heart and allowing his lids to flutter shut, but the tangle of shame and self-contempt only tightened. It writhed over his chest now, wrapping poisoned tendrils around his ribs, his lungs, until he thought he would be suffocated – or worse, crushed – within its lethal embrace.

They both claimed to care deeply for their partners even if such a sentiment wasn’t returned, and yet they arranged trysts with one another, venting the yearning and desperate desire they felt for the men they couldn’t have. What they were doing was absurd and he was certain that Jasper must have acknowledged that himself at one point or another, but…

A tight smile of irony twisted his lips as he inattentively combed his fingers through the demon’s mussed white hair. What kind of fetid devotion is this…? To claim that we care for them, and yet we do such things while screaming their names in our minds beneath the touch of another… As stiff fingers tiredly found his eyes, kneading out the abrupt ache that had bloomed within their cores, Grim inhaled from the center of his being and rested his head back against the pillow.

Within moments, Jasper’s soft breathing leveled out over the flesh of his chest, dipping into the light, rhythmic patterns of sleep as Grim lay wide awake, his mind racing about and helplessly colliding with topics that couldn’t have chosen a worse time to surface; all too quickly he felt them cluttering around him, swarming up against his sides and tearing at his skin, clawing at his face with sadistic, malevolent fingers. Clenching his lids tightly shut, he eased himself out from beneath Jasper’s warm body and inched to the edge of the mattress, hunching there and raking his fingers through his mussed hair as he stared down at the carpet.

Never before now had these trysts bothered him; never before now had he given them any more than a second thought aside from one of content yearning to experience those sensations once again. Vincent’s face, masked and stony as it had been during dinner, flashed before his mind’s eye just as the blonde turned away from him. Resting his forehead in his hand with a strangled, quavering breath, Grim shook his head at himself and rose from the demon’s bed. It was the way he’d been fantasizing over the man before Jasper had finished his shower, he was certain – but then, he’d done just such a thing before, as well, and it had never bred the same response wreaking such havoc on him now.

Quietly dressing beneath the shadows veiling the bedroom in a dark fog, slinging his loose tie around his neck, Grim tugged the sheets over the albino’s slim body and tenderly pressed his lips to his brow as Jasper furled into a warm ball in his sleep. He made sure not to make even the slightest of sounds as he closed the door between himself and the innocent being he’d knowingly tainted.

Lingering with his hand on the brass knob, Grim thrust the thought from his mind and tread lightly down the black hallway; turning to the stairs, readying to descend them with the same stealth, he froze in his tracks when he saw a frail golden light flood against the wall at their foot and heard the soft click of the back door being pushed shut. His heart froze in his chest, ceasing into silence in mid-beat, but his mind raced. Xeraph was home. Xeraph, the astute demon who’d shot him that curious glance in the boardroom, who’d let those burning irises linger on him at dinner when he and Jasper had returned to the table.

Xeraph, the partner who knew everything about what he’d been doing with Jasper, and had hesitated to verbally acknowledge it before their company.

He found himself questioning how that silence might change, now that they were alone.

A biting frost trailed its touch over and around his heart until it iced over in his ribs. Everything that had been roiling within his body and mind – the anxiety that had been gripping his chest in a merciless fist – stilled with a suddenness that left Grim absently wondering if he was even breathing. A feral awareness settled into his psyche, threading its roots deep into his mind and only then permitting him escape from the notions that had ruthlessly battered him; only then permitting him peace, tranquility, letting everything go and committing all of his focus to the impressive presence lingering between himself and the door. The tension occupying his muscles drained from his figure like water and left him lax, his hands hanging restlessly at his sides with a ready looseness to allow for the dexterity he knew could bring even an inhuman beast like the fire demon down with a single inexorable blow were push to come to shove.

Just because Xeraph’s blood burned anything that it touched didn’t make the man a god, after all… and even gods bled. Even gods died – Grim had been the cause of that himself.

-x-

Catching himself on the side-table, Xeraph could do nothing more than press the back of his hand to his mouth, lids squeezed shut, as a livid nausea slithered up his throat like a serpent, burning the sensitive passage with acidic bile and clenching an inescapable vice around his neck. He could feel it playfully kneading his stomach, compressing his chest as it wriggled up his esophagus. Such a simple action as pressing a fist to his lips was the only thing he could think of to keep that repugnant monster where it belonged – in his gut instead of all over the floor.

It wasn’t from the booze, of this he was certain. Just as he was certain, as a matter of fact, that such a thought was not one of comfort.

The instant he heard that clothed foot lightly step down on the landing, pausing at the sight of his presence, a scarred lid cracked open.

“Oh, you’re home,” the Scotsman murmured, his pallid eyes wide and guileless as he ran them over his hunched figure. “And not looking well at all.” He stoically added, bringing those chill irises up to his face once more as dark brows arched. “That nightcap at Cervantes’ place must’ve turned into a real party, eh?”

Forcing himself to straighten against the table on which his unused car keys rested with a loud sniffle, Xeraph thumbed his nose and fought back the notion of vomit spilling past his lips instead of words when he opened them. “I s’pose that must be it,” he groggily uttered. A strained grin touched only the corners of his mouth. “Good company’s a killer when it’s mixed with booze.” And so’s the fact that I just ruined whatever relationship I had with Vincent partnered with the fact that I can smell my partner on your skin. He didn’t even have to try – Jasper’s potent, heady scent was all over the Scotsman, slathered across his flesh and clothing like an overwhelming perfume.

Grim matched his half-made smile with an icy one of his own as he slung his coat around his shoulders and threaded his arms into it. “Aye, I s’pose it is.”

Hunching and propping his ankle on his thigh as he leaned on the table to remove his shoe, Xeraph realized that he asked the question he hadn’t wanted to before he had a chance to stop it. “I’m assuming Jasper’s asleep?” His gaze only flitted up to the black-haired convict once the inquiry had passed, and only for an instant before it returned to his legs as he tossed the black leather shoe aside and bent to its brother.

“He is.”

Straightening as he dropped the shoe to the floor, Xeraph absently hummed, running a calculative eye over the fully-dressed man as he leaned on the banister, his gaze wandering thoughtfully across the tiling in the entranceway. It slipped up with a malevolent grace to meet his own after a long moment of silence; the Scotsman swiftly descended the last of the stairs and nonchalantly reclaimed his footwear. The aroma that wafted off of him – and the dark, frigid aura that accompanied it – made Xeraph’s head spin until Vincent’s partner – beautiful, chained, ruined Vincent – tugged open the door.

Closing a firm hand around the banister at the foot, he could only partially glance back over his shoulder as he sent a half-hearted farewell to him. “Have yourself a good night, mate.”

“Aye, you too.” Grim didn’t look back as exited out into the chill night and closed the door behind him.

Lowering himself with a breathless groan to the soft, welcoming embrace of the carpeted stairs, he laced his fingers together and wearily leaned his forehead into their support; had the strength fleetingly abandoning his body been something material, something visible, he could have sat there, watching over the fingers laced before his face, as the rush of it flowed down like a small waterfall to the tiled floor of the entrance. He hadn’t even the muscle to shiver when the outside chill Grim’s exit had welcomed into the townhouse whispered through his clothing and brushed against the hot expanse of his skin.

But then, was the temperature really the source of that shiver? Or was it the pallid, murky abyss that had seemed to engulf Grim’s eyes from the moment he’d seen the Scotsman come down the stairs? He’d had the look of an animal – something even wilder, more feral, than what Xeraph had seen in his own reflection at the worst of times. And what made it even worse was the fact that he could tell from his own untamed roots, how that savage challenge had been directed at him

Without warning, his mind brusquely shrugged the thought aside and wrenched him around with iron fingers welded to his jaw to face the memory of his encounter with Vincent in the concrete bowels of the parkade. More important, it hissed in his ear – it would have been downright ignorant of him to think for even a moment that he could argue with that. Grim could think of him what he would, and Xeraph would deal with it accordingly if it became problematic, but Vincent…

Clenching his lids shut, he heaved a groan under his breath and tiredly chafed his face. Of all the things to do, he’d had to go and say what he did… He’d just had to go and kiss him, for Christ’s sake!

Nonetheless, no matter how fiercely his sober self chastised him, he found himself recalling the texture of the Englishman’s lips against his own – they hadn’t been moist, like a woman’s, or particularly smooth at the time, either, but by God, they’d been something that could have ripped his heart out and he would have loved them for it. It had been their shape, the fullness hidden by the fact that they were so commonly tensed into such a thin line and were thin besides; it had been the flavor bursting ripe against the tip of his tongue when he’d dared to touch them with it.

Xeraph was unabashedly drunk, he knew this much – he was more than innately aware how shameless and nonchalant he became in regards to sexual preferences or boundaries… And the fact that he’d kissed Vincent, that he’d admitted that he had some breed of feelings for him and felt the truth of it with the entirety of his demonic heart…

Quite frankly it confused the piss out of him. As a matter of fact it exceeded that and quite kindly directed itself towards being an overachiever. Not only did he find himself completely, utterly mystified by nearly everything that had crossed his mind in the last four hours, but he realized in a fraction of a second that what he’d said and done in that damnably cold parkade was quite possibly the most stupid thing he’d ever done… and said… in the entirety of his life! Sure, he looked like a young man but he was safely thrice Vincent’s age when it all came down to synchronizing their aging systems.

Even that aside, if he’d gone and done something like that only to scrutinize himself when he was sober to find that the feelings he felt really were nothing more than platonic… Vincent would be furious with him. No, he’d be more than furious. He’d hate him – he’d think him an opportunistic, shallow-hearted and lecherous wanker who’d only tried to swindle his way into his bed!

To say that the sober and logical part of his psyche was kicking the shit out of him for it would have been the understatement of the year. And then of course all one had to do to cap off the ever-pleasing course of his evening was permit him to walk through the door just as Vincent’s partner was about to take his leave from shamelessly bedding Xeraph’s. Sprinkle on the crude, stomach-wrenching nausea that had seized his gut in an iron fist and fastened a clamp over his head and all that was left to be added was a goddamn cherry.

How sickeningly typical that the most pleasant notion should suddenly become the most unattainable.

Sinking into the nest of his hands, too tired to emit a groan and too confused and livid with himself to think further, Xeraph could have almost grimly chuckled when a mental portrait of his cousin’s pale, cynical face came to mind. He would have a field day with this if he were here, his thoughts bitterly mumbled to themselves. Makes me all the more thankful he does what he does for a job. Can’t come check up on the little hellion fire-crotch cousin if you’re up to your ears in paper, zeroes, ones, cigarettes, coffee, and bullets. A fragment of a smirk touched itself to the thin, ashen lips of his relative’s foggy countenance, and Xeraph allowed his mentality to absently tack on one last addition to the list with an ever-present air of dourness. And let’s not forget about the condoms. Wait… does he even – Agh, god that’s the last thing I want to think about right now! Delete! Delete, damn you brain! Just erase the whole lot of that right now before I go vomit you into the toilet!

Only minutely satisfied when the entire mess winked out like the switch to his thoughts had finally been flicked, Xeraph fastened his fingers around the banister and hauled himself to his feet with a tired expulsion of breath. Plodding sluggishly up the stairs – the passing evening plucking the last of his strength from his muscles like worms – his mind remained an impermeable mass slumped slovenly against the bottom of his skull. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, either; for once he found himself relieved that nothing found itself idly wandering through the corridors of his thoughts for him to gnaw on, leaving them serenely, if somewhat eerily, quiet. His migraine had backed itself into a corner, furled in upon its troublesome self like a fluffy white kitten, tucked its nose into its tail, and gone to sleep.

And only then, when he’d reached the top of the stairs, did he curse himself for using that particular simile. He might as well have been bashing his head in on a giant brass gong for all the good it did so far as keeping his thoughts quiet went.

Guided to his partner’s bedroom door by a gentle, phantasmal hand, Xeraph rested a taut palm on the polished brass knob, and he remained there, gazing into a nothingness he couldn’t describe; each second longer that he lingered, he felt the silence wrapping tighter about him until his heart began to race and what seemed like every ounce of the heat his body possessed rushed into his face. It wasn’t because of the memory of the way he’d kissed Vincent – it had nothing to do with the fact that Grim, as he’d come so carelessly down those stairs, had been shrouded in a cold, macabre mist made invisible to eyes of flesh and blood. Were that the case, he wouldn’t have felt the sour weight in the pit of his stomach that he did; he would have felt panic, worried for the partner the Scotsman could have left in any sort of horrible, grotesque condition the mind could conjure.

When the throbbing commenced behind his temples for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, Xeraph swallowed back the wave of nausea rushing up his throat. He knew Jasper would be all right – alive and whole to wake up for another morning full of teasing – but the abrupt, knowing ache laced through the flesh beneath his ribs, spearing his heart clean through, told him that if he opened that door, his mind wouldn’t be left any easier. That frail sensation of peace would elude him for the rest of the night if he peeked in there, for some unfathomable reason that he couldn’t yet comprehend, and yet…

He opened Jasper’s door anyways, just in time for the fragile light from the hallway to spill across the albino’s bed as he furled beneath his sheets, the tip of his tail protruding from under the edge. A soft sigh escaped his partner’s pale lips, and even in Xeraph’s inebriated state – his abnormally sharp senses dulled by liquor and the unintelligible chaos of his own thoughts – he managed to catch one breathy word riding on that sigh.

“Sparky…”

His shadow visibly wilted in the doorway as he slumped against the frame, lightly sniffling and thumbing his nose all the while his gaze remained raptly trained on the shadowed details of Jasper’s slumbering face. He was relieved to see that Jasper was sleeping soundly, given how the albino was prone to sneaking into Xeraph’s own room to clamber under the sheets and huddle near him like a frightened child, but the fact that he was sighing his name so soon after Grim’s departure…

Pushing himself away from the frame, Xeraph fought to stifle his own hushed expulsion as he crossed the cluttered bedroom – absently tugging a fold of blanket over the exposed tip of Jasper’s tail as he passed it by – to pull the comforters higher up on the pale curve of the albino’s naked shoulder. Watching with a disappointed smile gracing the outermost edges of his lips as the youth nuzzled into his pillow, his face content and serene in the throes of slumber, Xeraph brushed the disheveled white locks from his forehead, absently smoothing his palm back over his tousled hair.

Sure, Jasper was capable of having moments of downright idiocy that made him wonder in earnest whether there was really anything going on in that head of his, but Xeraph knew he wasn’t stupid. For him to do something like this, for only god knew how long… To see him hand himself out like some common tramp all the while sighing Xeraph’s name, even if it was only a silly nickname…

“I wish you’d stop doing this to yourself, mate,” he murmured, straightening at Jasper’s bedside to peer down at his innocent, slumbering form with pained eyes. “It’s just not worth it.”

I can’t give you the kind of love you want, and we both know that, but Jasp… don’t go throwing yourself out at whoever’ll take you to satisfy a fantasy. The demon’s potent scent wound its way into his nostrils only to make his heart ache. I’d be the last one to argue that people don’t sometimes do desperate – if not utterly stupid – things out of love, but I don’t want to have to break your heart in order to stop all of this. Pointed as I may be with you, I’ll take care of you ‘till the day I die – god knows you need it, A tiny grin curled at the corners of his mouth, thriving there for one brief moment before it withered. I just can’t love you in the way you want me to, and I don’t want you to go and do something stupid that’ll get you hurt to try and make up for it.

He’d trusted Grim before. He’d known only very little about him, but he’d trusted him. Since that fiasco in the man’s head – granted, spontaneous and invasive and utterly unsuccessful though it had been – he found himself toeing a dangerous line of suspicion. For all he knew it could be just that – suspicion and nothing more. Paranoia. But that paranoia, that animal instinct that told him when something wasn’t right, had kept him alive his entire life, and he’d be damned if he ignored it now.

Stroking a hand once more over the demon’s mussed hair, absently scratching the soft fur coating the bottom of the back of his feline ear, Xeraph quietly left and tugged the door shut behind him; his exit into the hall, however, seemed as though he’d walked headlong into a solid wall of nausea.

Bile surged up in his throat as the ground lurched beneath his feet, sending him reeling into the opposite wall to clutch at it for support. Without warning a thick, impenetrable haze took to his sight, blurring everything around him and leaving him nearly blind in his own home – a hand clenching over his mouth when his entire body convulsed in a forceful, choking gag – as a shrieking spear of agony stabbed itself through his temples. A cold sweat broke out over his skin within moments, his burning eyes watering, and every second longer that he fought to remain on his feet left him with that much less strength; it was seeping out of him like water, evaporating into thin air until it took everything he had to stagger to his bedroom.

A piercing, droning static wail, riddled with layer upon layer of manic whispers and shrieking accusations, overrode his senses, and he could do nothing more than clench his fists against his temples in a desperate attempt to silence it as he frantically scrambled across his room, muscles quivering with every forced step he commanded of them.

This was exactly what he’d encountered when he’d brushed against Grim’s thoughts – the voices, the pain, the irrepressible torment of it…

His heart was caught in a razor-edged vice, each strained convulsion painful, each labored intake of breath pure, unadulterated torture; wincing as though a landmine had just gone off not ten feet away from him when a sharp, deafening scream fired through his temples like a bullet, he just barely caught himself on the edge of his bed before thrusting himself forward and skidding to his knees in front of the toilet to violently empty his stomach. The brunt of the assault seemed to pass with it, carried on the waves of half-digested food and acidic bile as he hunched there, panting, weak, sweat beading on his face and waves of blackness sweeping in around the corners of his vision…

But even then, that malicious, whispery voice remained to unleash a maniacal cackle in the back of his mind.

-x-

To Be Continued…

-x-

So… like it? Hate it? Wish it would spontaneously combust? Leave me a review and tell me all about it! C’mon, I wanna hear everything! –maniacal laugh-

OMG. My wrist hurts. Owie… -whimpers and slinks away to find her brace- See? I’ve gone and gibbled myself for you guys once again! Feel special, dammit – special, I tell you! Ha ha, anyways, guilt trip and whining aside, I’m glad this chapter is finally done. It was a petulant, spiteful, uncooperative bum through and through, from the first sentence to the last. Hopefully the quality’s relatively decent though because I think it’s gone through, like, at least ten different rounds of editing – and this is after being started over three different times. Seriously, three times to get the beginning down to something I could tolerate and didn’t make things seem… I dunno, rushed/cluttered… or… something. And ten different sessions of editing, at least, no exaggerating! And a lot of improvising, actually. Instead of the scene in the parkade with Vincent and Xeraph – which, by the way, I bet none of you would’ve ever seen coming, bwa ha ha –gets pelted with rotten fruit- - I was going to follow Grim and Jasp for some gratuitous smut. Just because.

And then I didn’t. Obviously. –gets pelted with rotten fruit again- Hey! Hey! Injured writer here back off! Injured! See?! –madly flails bandaged wrist-

In any case, lots of improvising. Took a chunk off of the end as well since the chapter was already so fuckin’ long. Dunno why I always do that with this one… -muses in her corner- Anyways… The actual action gets started next chapter. Me, personally, I’m dreading having to write the action scene because I’m more accustomed to the whole ‘blah blah blah, occasional dramatic-y angst bit of action/fighting here, smut there’ kinda thing, but something else fairly big is happening next chap too that I’m uber psyched about. –wide, ridiculously excited grin- Anywho… Uh… I think that’s it.

OH! Right! About the whole "Jasper going into heat" thing, since they never got around to explaining it in case you're still wondering... In demon terms, think of it as a heightened desire/urge to mate, where the demon may also exhibit a heightened aggression and/or territorial nature. Or, to put it bluntly, a particular period of time in which a male demon is hornier than usual, more aggressive than usual, and more possessive than usual. XD Nothing too terribly scientific, on my part. Kinda the basics in animal nature.

Review Replies! (THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO’S BEEN REVIEWING! I LOVE YOU ALL!)

Shiroyuki Hikari: Aww, thank you! It warms my heart to know that there’re actually people who tolerate my long-ass wait times for updates! Woot! XD And my – freaking – god. I wish it was only a couple of essays. I nearly failed that semester, thanks to my fucking English teacher, which would be my excuse for my complete and total lack of presence until after I graduated and diplomas were done and all that. That second semester was just fucking horrible! But! I am done now. 83 And being done makes me a very happy Sniffles. But all the same thanks for the boost of encouragement. It means a lot to me. –grin-

Laurena: Haha, that’s okay I scared the crap out of myself when I wrote the bit where Grim was hallucinating – if I didn’t already mention that in my author’s notes… -can’t remember- So if other people were freaked as well, awesome! –evil laugh- Haha, well the dearly departed email would’ve been befitting because I swear to god I felt dead after all the crap I had to deal with – again, referring to the end of high school. No worries, though – I’m just prone to disappearing without a trace off the face of the earth for long bouts of time. Still there, though. Just hiding… -maniacally snickers from under your bed and scratches at the floor- 8D

CatseyeRose: Ahh, yush, evil Grim. I lurve him, too. Then again I always have a thing for the evil/bad/insane guys. Dunno why… -eyes all the evil-insane-baddies in her writing- Hmm… And it doesn’t show at all. Oh no worries if you like darkness this baby’s gonna have lots more of it! But I’m not telling you why nope nuh-uh because I am now going to censor myself so I don’t give away any more actual spoilers. That having been said… Muwa hahahahaha! –pulls fuzzy green blanket around self like a cloak and “mysteriously” sneaks away, trips, yelps, then finishes scrambling noisily off-screen-

Wickedzl: You almost mentally slapped Jasper? Why? –curious blink- Not like I’m holding it against you or anything just out of curiosity! –creepily intent squinty-look as she spookily waggles fingers- I like knowing how peoples’ minds work on these things… But yush. Demons. I heart demons. And Xeraph I have to admit is my favorite, as well. 8D Odd thing is that he started out as a little doodle to coincide with one of my brother’s RPG characters when he wanted me to make a banner for him, then got slapped in a comic that never made it to Xeraph’s entrance – the comic was pushing daisies before he could be introduced – and then just kept evolving from there to what we have here! And my god it’s quite the change let me tell you!

Dreamsx3: Heh, well Unwanted Guardian wasn’t updated for a year – and then some, actually – and then this… This hasn’t been updated for… -counts- Nine months, give or take a couple of weeks. Haha, no worries I’m usually constantly working in them, it’s just the getting somewhere part that I usually have trouble with. This one in particular was being quite a little snot. –kicks it- I kept getting writer’s block and the writing quality in and of itself was getting shoddy so I had to edit it far more than it usually calls for. It sucked. But now it’s done. Yay! –scans plotting for chapter five- … aw crap. –shuffles away in blanket muttering about action scenes under her breath-

Vampgurl99: Oohp! Sorry if it got a little confusing! I know I tend to do that sometimes – the rapid-fire dialogue with no description if that’s what you’re referring to – but I try to make the differences/distinction as clear as possible. Guess I got lazy last chap. What even happened last chapter? –runs back to refresh memory- As far as length goes… I am not really sure, actually. Number of chapters-wise I’m thinking it will be shorter than Unwanted Guardian, but since these chapters are considerably longer than UG’s… I do not know. –laughs- At this particular point in time the length is still up in the air as I’ve yet to get all of the plotting down. Could be shorter, could be longer, could be relatively the same length I’m not sure. We’ll see later on. And no worries this baby is actually going somewhere and there is an actual plot behind it, but… no spoilers! Sorry! XD How can I write so much? I have absolutely no fucking clue. Hahaha, I really, really don’t. Especially not with this sucker, and this chapter had a shitload taken out, too! I’m a windbag, what can I say? –embarrassed laugh- It just happens so easily for this story and I don’t know why. As far as the coming back to “full-time writing”… Eh… Not sure about that. I mean maybe since I’m out of school I’ll be able to write more without the stress of homework and getting the marks I need to get into college and the hindrance of my nazi tightass English teacher beating all the style out of my writing, but there’s also the flipside of work. And I’m going to be doing a lot of working and a lot of concentrating on my drawing skills to get prepared for college. But we’ll see – I’m hoping that I’ll be able to write more and update more frequently than what I have been recently. –crosses fingers-

Ckarrine: Haha, y’know sad as it is I can’t think of anything to say to that other than: Aww, thank you! –hugs- XD

Violent Pornography: Hehe, awesome song, that. –sighs- I love System of a Down. Anyways! Hahaha, no, not at all. As a matter of fact I’ve got one of my RL friends in love with him, too, and I myself happen to adore Grim and all of his dualities, so it is all good and thank you!

Fork-In-Your-Eye: Hahaha, wow… one of the best? –blush- That’s… quite the compliment! –embarrassed laugh- Thank you! Ha ha, about Grim and Vince getting along… You know how people are always saying that opposites attract? Yeah, not in their case. Or do they…? Oh ho. –pause- Mind if they didn’t I wouldn’t have posted this thing as a romance. T,T Damn. There goes my attempt at being mysterious. –snaps fingers at dashed attempt- And so far as Darien goes and what’s got Grim’s manly bits in a twist over him… You shall see! Bwa hahahaha!

Wittyily Named: Ee, if you don’t like angst I don’t think you’re going to –pause- … well, maybe, maybe not. We’ll see, I guess. It hasn’t gotten into it now but this baby’s got a fair amount of angst of its own. Not the same kind as Unwanted Guardian though and even I have to admit that that’s some pretty heavy shit. It’s hard to write sometimes just because of when I get really sucked in there I start getting all depressed and then just… have to put it aside and go find some way to cheer myself up. –embarrassed laugh- Yeah, I know I’m being a bit vague on the transition from Grim to, well, evil, and that’s one of the inconsistencies that I need to go back and solidify, but thanks for pointing it out. Along with the fact that the bedrooms are on the second story, not ground floor, in Jasper and Xeraph’s townhouse – another inconsistency. That’s my own fault. –slaps own wrist for being inattentive- But as a hint to when the scariness is coming up… if I ever mention anything about pale eyes or, Iunno, a cold tone that’s taken to Grim’s voice… That’s Scary Grim. Otherwise Grim’s just a loud and obnoxious jackass if he’s upset. –laughs- The changes’ll become more obvious the further we get into the story, though, so no worries!

Thank you everyone for the reviews and that’s all for me for now so I’ll catch ya’ll next time! Hope you enjoyed! Ciao!