It was that time of year when dressing in outlandish costumes, indecent suits, and other forms of disguise was accepted by the general public. The party at the bar was crowded with figures in slutty nurse and army outfits, sexy felines, Darth Vader, a jester, at least two fairies, several witches, and a couple of cartoon characters. One especially creative (or desperate) guy came as a night stand.

Sanosuke Sagara sighed in boredom. He had been expecting to see more people of his acquaintance but in the half hour since he'd arrived he hadn't spotted anyone he knew. His wife Megumi was supposed to come with him but she was held up at the hospital and would probably just end up meeting him at home instead of joining him at the party.

He approached the bar to place another order when a figure caught his eye. She was sitting at the end of the bar, shapely legs crossed, her foot tapping in time to the music. She was gorgeous, her large eyes framed by long dark lashes, perfectly shaped lips pursed in a slight pout around a drinking straw. A corset emphasized her curvaceous figure, her chest covered by a white blouse, the off-shoulder cut showing a hint of cleavage, turning his mouth dry. He gazed at her in open admiration, his errand forgotten. She must have felt his gaze because she looked up, her eyes raking over his form. She apparently liked what she saw because one eyebrow arched in silent invitation. She stood; handkerchief cut brown skirt falling just a few inches short of being indecent. She wore knee high black boots, the heels looking impossibly high to Sanosuke. He wondered briefly if they were difficult to walk in. A bandana wrapped around her head and hoop earrings completed her attire. She appeared to be a pirate queen or at least someone equally wild and dangerous.

They continued holding each other's gaze for a heartbeat then with a seductive sway of her hips and a sideways glance at him over her milky shoulder she pushed away from the bar. Sanosuke felt his pulse quicken and his blood pound in his ears. For a fleeting moment he paused to consider what he was doing but he quickly pushed any misgivings he might have had had he allowed his internal voice to speak. He lifted the hat from his head and placed it out of the way on the end of the counter. Megumi had ordered it especially for him. Megumi! Oh, hells. He continued to follow the beautiful woman through the crowded room, ignoring a voice calling out to him in greeting, his eyes trained on the luxurious tresses which fell to her back in soft waves and tumbling curls as she threaded her way through the bodies on the edge of the dance floor. She led him all the way outside into the shadowed alley, the backdoor of the bar swinging shut behind them. His breath formed wreaths in the crisp night air but alcohol buzzed pleasantly in his veins; he didn't feel the slight nip in the air.

Her quick footsteps were just before him. He reached out and grasped her wrist, turning her swiftly toward him, his other hand finding the small of her back and pulling her close.

"Eager, aren't we?" Her voice held the suggestion of a laugh.

She placed both arms around his neck and backed them up against the wall, right next to a stack of wooden crates that would shield them from immediate view if anyone came out of the bar. His hands found her waist and slid down to settle on her hips.

"What do I call you?" His voice sounded strange in his ears.

"That's not important." Her voice was velvety, low, and sultry.

She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat. He swallowed thickly. They shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. He had a home, a place far more comfortable than this alley with the single streetlight at the corner where it intersected with the street. He shouldn't be doing what he was doing, what he was about to do. At least, not in a dark alley and definitely not with this woman.

She pressed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, stopping at a pulse point and sucking. She certainly knew what she was doing. He vaguely wondered if she might do this for a living but just as quickly as the idea was formed he labeled it preposterous and brushed it aside.

"Having second thoughts?" She asked when he made no further movement.

Before he could form a reply she grabbed his backside and pulled him flush against her and he groaned.

"Show me you want me," she whispered, her breath warm on his skin.

Suddenly it was as if a switch had been thrown. He pressed her against the wall of the building, grabbing her fishnet-covered knee and hitching it up against his hip, holding her in place with his hand. Placing his other hand behind her head, his lips came down on hers. There was no easing into the kiss; it was hungry, needy, and hot in this clandestine setting. Her hands eased off his backside and fisted on the front of his vest, holding him captive against her. He hadn't done anything like this since he'd gotten married almost a year ago. He kissed her fiercely, their tongues pressing, tangling, and tasting. With a tug he untied the lacings of her blouse then pulled the material from her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his lust-hazed eyes. One hand covered her pale bosom, finding that point of heightened sensation. She moaned into his mouth, the sound causing him to buck his hip into hers.

With difficulty, he pulled away from her kiss-bruised lips; lucidity finding it's way into his consciousness.

"Someone might come by."

"They wouldn't notice us in the dark," she breathed, hardly caring.

She tugged his linen shirt out of his trousers, her slender hands briefly questing on the hard planes of his abs before her hands went down to his belt buckle, fumbling in the ill-lit alley. He could register her cursing when it wouldn't unfasten readily. He almost chuckled but his lips were busy kissing her once again. She finally had it undone then she was pushing his fly open, her fingers brushing against him as she searched for the waistband underneath. He groaned, his nerves on fire. He gasped when she caressed him firmly but gently, a contrast to how passionately she was kissing him.

She whimpered in protest when his hand released her breast but he needed both hands free. He lifted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around him. His hands slipped up her calves then up her thighs. He hummed appreciatively when he felt garter clips at the tops of her stockings. He wished they were doing this someplace else and he could fully appreciate the sight of her in nothing but those— she groaned with impatience and deftly unclipped them herself. With another motion she slipped her underwear lower. He assisted her with removing the garment, finding her hot and ready. He paused to look at her face to read her okay in her eyes, or what he could see of her eyes in the shadows. She merely growled impatiently, "Now," accompanied by a squeeze from her thighs. He needed no further encouragement.

With an upward thrust, ah, sweet, sweet, relief. This was not a time to pace himself, the need for completion was so paramount that it was making their movements furious and erratic. His knuckles scraped against the wall where he held her buttocks but the pain barely registered as he drove into her again and again. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she clenched her muscles around him. Her back arched as he lavished attention on her breasts with his mouth. The muffled sounds of revelry drifting from the bar was punctuated by their moans and gasps of mounting pleasure. He held on for as long as he could sanely manage, until he felt her spasm around him, tight and relentless. The tension kept building and with one final thrust he came in a burst of knee-weakening sensation. She panted, her head thrown back to take huge gulping breathes of the autumn air. His forehead rested against her chest as his head slowly cleared from the lust-induced high. She unlocked her ankles from around his back as he gently lowered her to the ground. He kept his arms loosely around her, needing a moment to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. She bent down to gather his once crisp trousers where they had slipped down to his black boots, pressing a final kiss low on his belly before she laced up her top, righted her corset, and smoothed down her skirt. Neither spoke.

She grasped his hand after he had buckled his belt, turning it to look at his wounded knuckles in the faint moonlight filtering down between the tall buildings.

"These need cleaning." Her voice sounded almost concerned.

"My wife could take care of it." He wasn't.

"How would you explain how you got them, I wonder?"

"An alley scuffle, some thug who crossed the wrong guy."

She scoffed. "I wouldn't believe that."

He was unrepentant. "Would 'an alley encounter' suit you then, Megitsune?"

She shook her head at him fondly. Husband and wife grinned at each other and with a last once over to check if they were decent, the Pirate King and his Queen stepped back into the bar.

This story came about around 2:00 in the morning as I was writing a report on the pioneers of medicine. I was doing a bit of research when I saw an ad for an online shop that sold corsets and other similar period pieces. That caught my interest and as I browsed through the site I saw the skirt that I just described Megumi wearing. This gave birth to a plot bunny involving my favorite RK couple and since it's almost Halloween, bam, there's the setting.