Sometimes, at night, Katan thought he could hear his master screaming. It was insubstantial, something that lingered merely on the borders of his consciousness, but it nevertheless unnerved him. From time to time he would slip across the corridor to the seraph's chambers and peer inside, but Rociel was always sleeping peacefully.
God, he was beautiful as he slept.
In slumber, the anger, hatred, rage—the nefarious sadistic smile—all was washed away. His lashes lay still upon his milk-white cheek, eyes closed rather than open and challenging. His hand curled softly on the pillow, fingers elegant and calm, rather than recoiling and ready to strike. Those gorgeous crimson lips fell open just slightly, devoid of those biting words that always pierced Katan's soul.
Katan liked to imagine that his master's dreams were gentle and comforting, although he knew that it was not so. After all, even the cherub's wildest hopes could not erase the furrows that marred his master's forehead or lift the corners of that frowning mouth.
He never touched Rociel, even though he longed to. It was too risky, too likely that the angel would awaken in a flaming rage and push him away, screaming profanities and breaking his child's heart. But Katan did linger, if only for a moment, if only to admire the spun silver of his master's hair and pretend to himself that things were the way they used to be.
The way the used to be…the way they once were, before fear and anger clouded Rociel's mind, before his rotting soul began to eat away at his once flawless flesh. Rociel would take him in his arms, ruffling his hair with those pianist's hands, their laughs mingling in the sweet summer air. He would drop by the think tank on Wednesday mornings to observe the students, and he would always spend a few extra seconds gazing over Katan's shoulder before moving on down the row.
Katan could trust him, then. He could go to him when he needed help with his studies, he could confide in him when the other boys teased him mercilessly. His father had always offered him refuge, a cup of tea, and a few soft words of reassurance. Katan knew that he could deal with anything, as long as Rociel was there to guide him.
Part of him knew, while Rociel was in the midst of his brief affair with the girl Kirie, that it was all a façade. Rociel was determined to get his revenge, to prove to Katan that he could survive without the cherub. He had vowed to himself that he would never, ever lose control. Not of Katan, not of himself, not of anyone. He had failed.
Katan bit down on his lower lip to control what he knew could be a sob. Rociel shifted slightly and the cherub froze. But no, he was still asleep, simply turning onto his back. The movement caused his shirt to gape open, revealing a sliver of glowing pale skin and the rosy tinge of a nipple. Katan blushed.
He should not be here. Should Rociel-sama open his eyes, see him…he refused to complete the thought. But the sight of his master's effeminate flesh nevertheless sent the blood rushing to the lower extremities of the cherub's body. Katan nearly choked at the realization of what was happening to him, and he doubled over as though he could somehow reverse the act of nature. It didn't work, of course, and Katan was left feeling distinctly self-aware and more than slightly nervous.
His hand groped for the door. He must leave, now. Before it was too late. His fingers closed around the doorknob, but before he could make his escape, a sound behind him made him halt in his tracks.
"Katan."
The cherub's breath froze in his throat, and he turned around slowly. Rociel was sitting straight up in bed, his eyes still bleary from sleep although his voice remained firm and alert.
Katan swallowed, hard. "Y-yes, Rociel-sama?"
Rociel gazed at his face for a moment, before his amber eyes averted downward, traveling along the other angel's torso. Katan made a movement to hide the evidence of his arousal, but it was too late. Rociel's eyes jerked upward again. Katan flushed deeply, but this only served to intensify the perilous physical reaction.
"Rociel-sama, I—."
"Hush, Katan."
Rociel stood and crossed the room in a few simple strides. He brushed his fingers against the cherub's cheek lightly and Katan shivered. Rociel laughed, but he did not draw away. Rather, he let his hand trail along Katan's neck and linger for a moment at his collar before continuing downward.
Katan refused to follow his master's movements with his eyes, choosing instead to gaze firmly at a spot on the far wall. Rociel's touch was electric as it traced a soft pattern down his chest, coming to rest at last on the other man's hip. Katan jerked away in alarm.
"Don't move," Rociel instructed him coldly.
Katan stood still, and once more fixed his sight on the other wall.
"Look at me."
Katan looked, letting his own gray eyes meet cool, calculating gold. Rociel's thumb was tracing a circular motion in the hollow just beneath his hipbone, and the sensation was infuriatingly amazing.
"Please…please, Rociel-sama…."
Rociel smiled, scarlet lips curving upward as he moved closer to his protégée. "Please what, Katan? Please stop?"
Katan could not breathe. "Please, Rociel-sama," he choked. "Please, this is a sin."
Rociel's smile vanished. "Do not tell me what is and is not a sin, Katan."
Dear God, he needed to leave. Now. Rociel's fingers were drawing far too close for comfort.
Katan twitched.
"Do you wish me to stop, Katan? Do you wish me to leave you alone, to let you return to your rooms?"
Katan tried to speak, but all that he could manage was a cracked sob.
Rociel smirked. "What was that, Katan?"
Katan shook his head.
"I can't hear you."
"No."
Rociel raised his eyebrows.
"No, I do not wish for you to stop, Rociel-sama."
"Good."
Before Katan had time to think, Rociel's lips were pressing against his and he could feel the warmth of the seraph's body on his hips. He stumbled back and slammed against the door. Rociel pinned his arms above his head, trailing fiery kisses down his jugular vein. Katan could not help the soft moan that escaped his lips, his head tilting backward of its own accord. Rociel was biting down on the cherub's shoulder, but the pain was welcome, exquisite. He arched his body against that of his master, unable to control the mortal urges.
"Rociel-sama…."
Rociel pulled back for a moment, out-of-breath, eyes bright with an emotion that Katan could not recognize.
"What is it?"
Katan wet his lips, his heart fluttering in his ribcage like a trapped bird. He could not speak.
"Well?" Rociel moved forward, so that their lips were almost touching—enough to tempt Katan, but just far enough away. "Well, Katan? Tell me." His breath was hot on the cherub's skin. "Tell me…am I beautiful?"
Katan's mouth was dry as he fumbled for the correct words. "I—yes, Rociel-sama, of course."
"How beautiful?"
Katan's eyes fluttered closed, but they opened again swiftly when Rociel slapped his arm lightly.
"How beautiful, Katan?"
The cherub's gasps were shallow. He felt as though he were suffocating.
"I…I can not say, my Lord. More—more beautiful than there are words to describe."
Rociel released him and returned to his bed, expression impenetrable as he pulled the silken covers up to his chin.
"Rociel-sama?"
"You may leave, Katan."
Katan nodded slowly and bowed before exiting the room. He closed the door softly, but as soon as he was out of his master's sight, he collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. He wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty forehead, struggling to regain control over his body. It was several moments before he could stand upright once more, and at least another two minutes before he could bring himself to return to his room.
He undressed for bed in silence, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on his desk to be picked up by the laundry-maid. He knew he would be unable to concentrate on a book, so he blew out the candle.
There, in the dark, he allowed himself to shake his head slowly.
"You will be the death of me, Rociel-sama."
In his own chambers, the inorganic angel smiled.