Title: Just a Touch of Ice (4/4)
Romance/Angst/Hard R (for ambiguous consent, foul language, and yaoi of the possessive-seme!Sin variety.)
They're not in love. They're not. They never will be. It's only sex. It will never be anything more than that. Sin knows this. He's happy with it. So, no, god damn it, he is not jealous!
Time Line:
Winter of 2480 A.S. Thirteen years after Under Lock and Key... Or Not.
Sin – 480 years; Draca – 125 years; Kira – 13 years; Gwen – 40 years; Kyris – 64 years

Guess what time it is? That's right! It's warn the idiots time!:This is slash. This entire series has slash in it. If you are not a fan of it, or at least tolerant of it, why did you click when it's RIGHT THERE IN THE SUMMARY? If you are one of those assholes who just like to flame people becasue "it's fun," please just fuck off. Don't waste my time or the time of those who happen to enjoy this series.

And now for a quick round of thanks! I've fallen behind on replying to reviews again. (DX) So I'd like to thank bookaholic13, vkolita, Subconscious-Flirt, and a HUGE squee-filled thank you to The Thirteenth Floor. (Panda, you know why. X3)

Just a Touch of Ice - Final Part

The first thing Sin was aware of when he entered his flat was that there was very little change in temperature. It nearly as cold inside his home as it was outside. Chills wracked his body. 'Did the Aodhan Crystal run out?' he wondered, walking over to the simple dais that stood a few feet from the door. The tree-like crystal had certainly run out of energy a short while ago. It was dim to his Sight, but not yet invisible. Sin extracted another of the red crystals from a drawer in the dais, sending a bit of his energy into it. Almost immediately, waves of heat began rolling off the small trinket. Sin sighed in a small amount of relief, finally daring to remove his jacket and shoes with the promise of oncoming heat.

The assassin only made it as far as the center of the front room before his body refused to move. His apprehension – his doubt – told him that he could never be forgiven for this. It was too much to hope for. But he had promised Gwen – promised himself that he would fix this.

'Stop it, Sin. Just get it over with.'

He felt like a stranger in his own home as he crept slowly down the hall towards Draca's room. The flat was utterly silent, but he could See a faint burst of Color behind the wall of the Vampyre's bedroom. It seemed Draca was still asleep, which worried him. The thief usually slept more when he was in need of blood, in order to preserve what energy he had. Sin paused before the door, his hand lingering over the aged wood, gathering his nerve.

Finally, with a steadying breath, he pushed it open, and snuck inside.

The Sight before him caused him to halt just inside the doorway. His breath hitched. His heart clenched painfully.

Draca's breathing was ragged and labored, his limbs twitching in the throes of a nightmare. The man's teeth were chattering due to the frigid – but slowly warming – air of the apartment. His soul was a swirling vortex of black ebony fear, which devoured every emotion in its path. The few portions of the Vampyre's soul that was untouched by fear were awash with white, throbbing bolts of pain.

In the next instant the Fallen Angel had crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands reached out of their own accord, carding gently through the man's wild hair and caressing his face. It was so odd, a part of his mind noticed, to be so tender and gentle with his partner. He had never shared a casual caress with Draca before.

"Draca…" he called softly, too uncertain to do anything more than run his hands through that wild hair and murmur his name into the warming air. One of his hands came down to cup Draca's cheek – momentarily alarmed by the icy feel of the man's skin. Something in Sin's chest tightened, though thankfully not in pain, as the Vampyre's nightmare soon lost its hold under his touch – the thief's body suddenly relaxing and the swirling ebon vortex of fear gradually fading. It was replaced with pale turquoise, indigo, gray-blue, and crimson. Contentment, fondness, resignation, and longing. That white-hot lightning storm of pain was still there, though it had faded to the very edges of the man's soul.

Draca, still asleep, pressed his face into the warmth of his hand and sighed sleepily. Sin could feel the smallest of smiles press against his palm, and felt his own lips begin to quirk in response.

"S-Sin…" It was the breathiest of sleeping murmurs that caused his heart to stumble and his breathing to hitch. 'He's… dreaming… about me?'The quirk became a small, genuine smile against his will, and the seraph struggled to find his voice.

"Draca, wake up," he coaxed, running a thumb along a sharp cheekbone.

After a moment, the Vampyre began to stir in response to his quiet calls. Sin's heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing with anxiety and apprehension. It was now or never. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst as the sleeping man fought his way back to consciousness.

The burst of shock that came when Draca was finally awake enough to notice him, Sin expected. What he didn't expect was the warm, pearl-like shade of hope and deep gold joy that followed swiftly after it. "Sin?" the quiet, sleepy whisper was hopeful.

The seraph couldn't find his voice to answer. "I…" He belatedly realized that his hands were still caressing Draca's face and hair, but couldn't bring himself to stop. The Vampyre's hand rose tentatively, fingertips brushing the back of the hand cupping his cheek. When Sin didn't react to the touch, the joy in the thief's soul swelled. "I…" Why couldn't he speak?

'Just say it, damn it!'

"I-I'm… I'm sorry, Draca." Sin's voice shook as he said it. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd apologized to anyone. The most unexpected Colors waxed and waned through the Vampyre's spirit as he began his clumsy apology: confusion, realization, hope, joy, longing, and even the slightest bit of amusement. Those emotions bade him to continue, though more from confusion than anything. "I'm so, so sorry. I-I had no right to… I was… jealous of… but I was wrong-"

The thin man sat up abruptly, and Sin tensed, fearing the he was about to forcibly thrown from the room. But Draca stunned the life out of him by reaching over to cup his scarred face between his cold hands and capturing his lips in a kiss that was just as tender as it was soft. A shiver that was certainly not from the still cool temperature raced up his spine and a vice seemed to close around his throat, destroying his ability to form words. It took a few moments for the notion of kissing back to even occur to him, and the seraph responded as best as his dazed mind would allow. He felt the smile against his lips as Draca pulled away. His face was still held by those hands, thumbs brushing the edges of his scar. "You were rambling," the Vampyre said simply.

The Master Alchemist grasped one of Draca's wrists, guiding it slowly away from his face. "Draca, I'm sorry." How could Sin make him understand?

"I know." Lips met his once more – just as gently as before – moving in slow, tender caresses. "I know," Draca murmured between kisses. "And you're… forgiven."

Sin broke the kiss with a sputter of disbelief. "But I… I attacked you! Surely you can't-!"

"Please," an indignant snort left the Vampyre. "I'm not made of glass. I can take a little bit of rough treatment. Just… say something next time, instead of bottling it up until it just explodes, okay?"

The assassin could only nod dumbly. 'It shouldn't be this easy,' was his only thought.

"Actually, seeing the possessive and dominating side of you was kinda… sexy."

The protest that had been halfway out of Sin's mouth abruptly stumbled and died. "P-Pervert," he sputtered instead, fighting back a flush of embarrassment.

"Heh, you like it."

"Hmph." The seraph found he had no answer for that. But he still couldn't fathom the ease of his partner's forgiveness. If what Draca said was true, there was little reason for the pain and fear he Saw in the Vampyre's soul. If not because of his brutal treatment and anger, then why?

"Don't. Touch. Me."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach as his own words returned to him. "Oh god," he breathed, half unaware that he was saying it aloud, "I'm such an idiot." His eyes searched Draca's face, his soul. "Have you forgiven me for that, too?"

The neon blue of realization and clarity, as well as the sudden tension in Draca's body, told him he didn't need to elaborate. "That… depends," the Vampyre began tentatively. Sin could feel the man's eyes searching his face carefully, examining every detail of his expression. "…Did you mean it?"

"No!" was his immediate response. In his jealous rage, he hadn't wanted to have anything to do with the people he'd believed Draca to be sleeping with. He hadn't stopped to think about the personal scars the Vampyre obviously bore from his life – like all cursed beings bore… like Sin himself obviously bore, and would have a profound affect on him if he still retained all his memories.

People didn't like to have monsters touch them.

"No…" Sin said again, but his voice was softer now. Had he really been that stupid? The seraph couldn't put the depths of his regret into words, so he did the only thing he could: he took Draca's face in his hands and kissed him softly. It was awkward, he realized, to kiss someone this gently. He'd never initiated such a kiss, and so he was a little lost. But he was trying – he had to try.

Apparently whatever sentiment the Fallen Angel was trying to convey in the kiss was understood, for Draca responded in kind with a quiet sigh. Hands crept slowly up his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. It became an entangling kiss that was slow and passionate but no less tender. A tongue snuck its way past his lips, tangling with Sin's and leaving him breathless.

The seraph was suddenly pulled forward, their kiss breaking as they fell back onto the mattress. A moment of shifting later and Sin found himself laying on the bed with Draca fitted against his chest like a second skin, his face resting in the crook of Sin's neck and his arms about the assassin's waist. "Stay here tonight." Draca's voice was muffled against his skin, but the seraph could still detect the faint pleading note in it.

It was the least he could do. "All right," he replied, his hands returning to play with the Vampyre's wild hair.

His efforts earned him something that almost sounded like a purr. "And keep doing that."

They lay in silence for a few moments, Sin continuing to run his hands through the thief's hair while the other man nuzzled contentedly into his neck. That silence was broken however, when the Draca's nose bumped against the worn leather of the collar Sin customarily wore. A frustrated growl rent the air. The thief drew back just enough to make room for his hand as it struggled with the collar buckle, desperate to remove it. The elated sound of triumph that accompanied the removal and subsequent throwing of the accessory almost made him chuckle. Draca truly did hate that thing. Perhaps it was finally time to get rid of it.

He shivered as the Vampyre settled back against him, dropping a kisses onto the now bare flesh. The skin was sensitive after being covered for so long. But the incessant petal-soft caresses reminded him of something very important. "Don't you need to feed?" Sin whispered.

Draca froze for an instant, before the barest brush of fangs scraped across his neck. "You'd let me?"

Guilt rose within the seraph once more, and he berated himself for his actions over the three months. Nearly a month ago he had stopped giving his blood to his partner. How Draca had survived this long, if he truly only drank Sin's blood, he had no idea. So Sin pulled the Vampyre's head closer, tilting his head to give him more room to bite. A pinprick of fangs brushed his neck, not quite hard enough to pierce his skin, shaky breaths fanning up his throat. And then they retreated, replaced by the soft caress of lips.

"I'm fine for now," Draca said quietly.

"You can't be. I've been gone for nearly three weeks. You need to feed."

"You've been gone for eighteen days, actually. And Kyris came barreling through here yesterday and practically shoved her blood down my throat, so – wait." The Vampyre lifted his head to stare into Sin's face, confusion and then shock blooming over his soul. "You know." It wasn't a question.

The Fallen Angel nodded.

"You weren't supposed to know."

"Why not?"

"You try working that into casual conversation. 'By the way, I've narrowed down my diet to drinking only your blood'? Tch, yeah. Right. That would work."

Draca had a point there. "You still should have told me that I was your only food source."

"It would've only pissed you off more in these last few months." As much as Sin hated to admit it, Draca was right about that too. "And you're not my only food source. I still use my shadows to absorb blood during commission. I just don't drink anyone's blood – except for yours."


The thief shifted uncomfortably, burying his face into Sin's shoulder. "I'm… not sure, exactly. It just… didn't seem right – drinking anyone else's blood." Sin could See Draca's soul quiver in uncertainty, that lithe body tense and unmoving against his. The seraph had reluctantly acknowledged the potential meaning of Vampyre's new feeding habit. And they both seemed to have similar feelings on the subject: lost, awkward, hesitant. He pressed his lips into Draca's hair, taking in a deep breath of the man's scent.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay. Just… don't wait until the last minute to come to me for more." The assassin hoped his unspoken message was heard. They'd been through a lot – too much – in the last few months. This was something that could wait. At least, for a little while.

Draca relaxed, and Sin knew he understood. "Thank you." The Vampyre finally began to settle down for more rest, nuzzling into his shoulder contentedly. "G'night baby," he slurred after a stretch of silence, his voice thick with sleep.

Sin was surprised that, for once, the pet name wasn't followed by the prickly sensation of annoyance. "Good night, Vampyre." It was strange how that, too, sounded like an endearment to his ears.

And so he, too, settled down into the warm embrace, allowing a contented sleep to take him for the first time in months.

It was not twenty minutes after both assassin and thief had finally given into slumber that the very faint sound of the front door opening could be heard in the flat. It was shortly followed by the almost inaudible click of that same door being shut once more. For a moment the faint creak of the floorboards was the only indication that there were intruders in the flat. And then:

"Well, they're not having steamy make up sex, that's for sure," whispered a gentle, feminine voice.

"Do I even wanna know how you know that?" This voice was young – a girl's voice.

"These ears aren't just for show, you know."

"Keep it down! They could hear you," a third woman's voice hissed. "Spread out and find them."

"Geez, you make this sound like we're assassinating them, not checking up on them," the young voice muttered.

This was only met with an irritated grumble. Three sets of footsteps tiptoed over the floor of the apartment, moving slowly and carefully. A head of silvery hair peeked around the doorframe moments later. Rose-hued eyes – dyed burgundy in the darkness – widened at the sight of the sleeping pair. "Hey!" Kira hissed over her shoulder. "Over here!"

It took mere seconds for her accomplices to reach her, the Kitsune and the barmaid stepping into the doorway behind the teen. They were silent, the room filled only with the sounds of quiet sleeping breaths.

"There," Gwen muttered. "See? You didn't need to come check on them. I told you they'd be fine."

Kyris was remained silent, her gray eyes staring at the slumbering assassin who was tranquilly intertwined with the thief. "…Can I kill him now?"

Her companions glanced at her. "Umm… No Kyris. They've got this figured out for now," Gwen said slowly.

"Oh. Okay… can I kill him anyway?"

Both the teen and the Kitsune sighed in exasperation. "And everyone says I'm bad." Kira threw up her hands in irritation.

"Shh! You'll-"

"Good night, ladies."

The three intruders jumped at the sly whisper, whirling to face the bed. A single crimson eye glared sleepily at them, half hidden because the speaker still hadn't moved from his comfortable position against the seraph.

They grinned sheepishly at him, moving slowly out of the room. "We'll uh…" Kyris fumbled. "We'll just be going now." The bedroom door was quickly shut, the soft creak of floorboards signaling the group's hasty exit. It was only when he heard the front door close that Draca shifted, reaching up to lay a kiss on Sin's scar. The blond snuggled back into his partner's form, smiling when strong arms unconsciously tightened their embrace.

Things weren't completely back to normal for them. Not yet. But things were getting better.

That was enough.

"It is not love that is blind, but jealousy."

Walk on, Traveler of Worlds.

Okay, so this is the end... sorta. And everything is resolved... sorta. XD

As you can tell, this is an "eh?" ending. Which means a companion piece. Which I have yet to finish typing. So let's sum things up eh? Draca has forgiven Sin, but Sin has yet to forgive himself. Gwen has grown tired of their antics, and is about to force her hand. How? You can find out in the next installment: Drastic, but Necessary! Oh! And with this post I will be uploading a link to some cute filler art for this story in my profile.

And now after that shameless self-advertisement, I bid you farewell and give my thanks for reading! Remember, reviews and commentary keeps the author-monster at bay!