(A/N: *Throwing various things into the Huntik Fandom and screaming 'TAKE MY HUMOR!SMUT!'*)

Part 1:

Awkward

It was the first day of classes after the defeat of the Blood Spiral. All four of the teens were at Venice Prep Academy, and since Cherit had taken a liking to stowing away in Den's backpack and Dante and Zhalia had gone for some much needed groceries, Dante's house was empty.

Empty, that is, until Dante nearly broke his door down in a rush to get inside with Zhalia on his heels.

He just managed to throw the key from under the mat into the house and flick the lock on the door to prevent interruptions before Zhalia's lips crashed onto his. It was their very first opportunity to be totally alone since the Spiral War, and neither of them could wait any longer.

Hands yanked at clothing, craving the warmth of skin on skin. Both Seekers managed to lose their coats and shirts before they tumbled on to the sofa.

"Oh, shit!" Zhalia cast a concerned glance at the massive coms system that faced the exact couch they were currently on. She let out a gasp and her hand flew to the back of Dante's head as he drew a hot line from her collarbone to her jaw with the tip of his tongue. "The ah! the TV. If you get a call–"

Dante distractedly threw a hand in the TV's direction, casting a haphazard power. There was as short shower of sparks as the plug nearly exploded out of the wall. "Don't care." He growled into his partner's throat. His teeth grazed the soft, silky flesh of the scar across her neck with each word. "Fuck, I've waited so long for this."

The very fact that she had Dante Vale speaking vulgar words made Zhalia shiver. His weight pressing against her hips was downright intoxicating and fiery all at once, the roughness of his fingertips as they dug into the spaces between her ribs sending pulses to her core. He had her coming undone so damn fast that she could barely remember who she was anymore.

Scratch that. She was Zhalia fucking Moon and she was not going to be the only one losing her mind today.

Dante let out a groan as one of his partner's legs hooked around his waist. His head fell to her bare shoulder at the increased friction, and Zhalia took the opportunity sink her teeth into his skin. His hips bucked as she traced the bite with touches of her sinful lips.

"You know how I want you to have me, Dante?" Her softly hissed words were deadly venom in his ear. Each syllable cast puffs of cool air against his newly acquired mark, sending pleasant shocks through his body.

"Tell me." His voice was hoarse as he felt her nails dig into the back of his neck and she held his head to her chest. He couldn't help but rake his teeth on her straining collarbone, over the ragged scar of a past compound fracture. Zhalia had confessed to him that she went absolutely wild when he touched her scars, the tangled nerves sending mixed signals of pain and pleasure. "Tell me how you want this. Tell me you want me."

Her body arched against his, the exotic feeling of warm flesh to warm flesh sending heady signals to his brain and other more important places. "First, first I want ah! I want you to take me against the wall. Then–" Zhalia broke off to swear in her native tongue as Dante instinctively ground down against her in response to her request. "Then the fuck! the couch. And the stairs. And your goddamn bedroom." A savage growl tore from Dante's throat, and the very sound had Zhalia tightening her knees around his waist. "Fuck if you knew how many nights I thought of this in that fucking base…."

But she didn't have time to tell him exactly how she had fantasized about him because Dante was pulling her up from the couch and setting her on her feet. A frantic tug on his arm led him to the thin strip of wall right beside the main door into his home, and with a devilish smile he pushed his partner's back up against the narrow space. His body covered her smaller frame once more as she pulled him to her, skin hot with want and need.

"Right by the door?" Their lips met again in a vicious kiss, bruising and biting and surrendering to that all enshrouding savagery that so often haunted their lovemaking. "You kinky minx."

In all natural ways of the world, it would and should have been Dante acting the predator in the situation as he leaned his weight against her. But the elite Seeker always knew that it was Zhalia hunting him down. Already he could feel the thrum of her peculiar energy pulsing through her skin, setting the hair on the back of his neck up as he felt the deeply feral undercurrents that surged in her blood.

Dear gods above, she never had to kill him to send him to heaven and hell. She made their own mix of the two right there when she touched him, promising him ambrosia and sin together.

Dante didn't exactly know if he was in control of his body as he grabbed Zhalia's thighs and lifted her from the floor to wrap her legs around his waist. The former spy let out a short, clipped cry at the new angle of friction through their still clothed lower halves, instinctively clinging to her partner's broad shoulders as he slammed her back against the wall.

This is what she had been waiting for all this time. Just the two of them, alone, sharing their particular style of encompassing love that consumed them fully and completely.

His sinful hands slid up her back as she arched towards him, fingers brushing against the clasp of her bra.

And as one their heads snapped to stare at the door as a familiar voice muttered a quiet "Farslip." and the door opened.

Lok managed three steps into the house before his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He took two stumbled steps backwards, praying in his mind he hadn't seen what he thought he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the left.

"Hello, Lambert." Zhalia's voice was cold as ice. Her fingers were still tangled in Dante's hair, free hand resting in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing back here right now?"

Lok's mouth opened and closed like a gasping, scarred–for–life fish.

Yes, that was Zhalia, currently clinging to his mentor with her legs wrapped firmly around him and both of them nearly bare of clothing from the waist up. And yes, his brain was just barely registering that he had interrupted something, but the fact that he had interrupted it between two of his best friends and guardians had blown more than half the fuses left in his skull. It just wasn't processing right for him to know what exactly that something was.

"I…I lef–left my lunch here."

"Uh–huh." Zhalia's glare would have probably cut open the poor teenager's throat if she was put together enough to use silent spells right now. "I really don't see how that's our problem."

Dante cleared his throat. He knew better than to let Zhalia go at this point, supporting part of her weight with an arm around her waist. "Lok, you're very lucky to have come in as soon as you did. Because there would have been things happening if you opened that door a second later." The elder Seeker's eyes flashed dangerously. "That locked door. That didn't have the key near it. In an obvious attempt to keep people out."

Lok put his hands up in a pleading gesture towards the kitchen. It was slowly starting to dawn on him as to what he had barged into. "Please, can I just…get my lunch?"

"Get out." Both his mentors snapped.

The most promising Seeker of the new generation let out a babbled, horrified apology and fled, nearly forgetting his backpack in his haste. Dante slammed the door behind him, both locking and using frozen Stopglue on the frame.

"Now where were we?" He growled as his partner loosely draped her arms around his neck.

The feral gleam in her eye sent shivers down his spine. "I believe we were trying to alert your neighbors to the fact that I'm back in town."

Dante's smile was full of sharp teeth and carnal promises. "Hell, let's shoot for the whole damn city."

"I like the way you think."