Title: Kiss of Death

Author: Forest

Pairing: Akabane/OC (sort of…)

Rating: R

Genre: Drama/Suspense

WARNING: Mild sexual content, violence

Beta: None

Cast: Akabane, OFC

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Get Backers. I wish I did, but I don't. C'est la vie. I only lay claim to Miaka who is my own OC.

Feedback: Yes please!

Summary: "Pretty girl, beware of his heart of gold. This heart is cold!" An Akabane one-shot.

Author's Notes: This is the first time I've ever tried to write Akabane. He's certainly fun to write, but a really difficult and complex personality to get down on paper. Thus, I hope I did him some kind of justice...

Kiss of Death

'Hey, who's that?'

'Dunno. He's been there for over an hour.'

'Doing what?'

'Just the same as he is now. Staring out at the streets.'

Glancing curiously across at the mysterious figure, the blonde seated himself opposite his friend, setting down his briefcase and damp coat on the adjacent chair and their talk swiftly turned to business. The only other sound in the room besides their hushed chatter was that of the muffled radio in the kitchen and the hypnotic ticking of a clock on the wall. Indeed, the only time the blonde gave the man another thought was when the waiter approached the stranger's table and gazed inquiringly down at him, his thin moustache quivering with something not unlike anxiety.

'Are you ready to order yet, sir?'

The stranger he was addressing looked up at the waiter from under the wide brim of his hat, and a faint trace of a smile graced his features.

'Yes,' he replied slowly. 'Yes, I do believe I am'.

As the waiter all but scurried back into the kitchens with the order, the stranger caught the eye of the blonde who hastily averted his gaze and stared determinedly at his placemat.

Amusing fools, the man chuckled softly, brushing a lock of ebony hair from his eye. They ought to be glad of his presence really. After all, the restaurant had never attracted much custom to speak of, being located as far back in the alley as it was. Still, it was entertaining to see how they skirted around him as though he was about to launch at them and attack. Again, they should have thought better. He didn't attack anyone with any use to him, and certainly not before dinner. It would be most impolite.

'I do apologise for the wait, sir' the waiter said hurriedly, when half an hour later he arrived with a plate. 'Our chef is new here, you see and it takes him a while to get adjusted, what with getting used to a different kitchen and all …'

The stranger waved a white gloved hand and nodded. 'Your apology is quite unnecessary, though appreciated. Do pass my welcome onto your chef and I hope he will be settled presently.'

The waiter nodded quickly. 'I shall. My thanks for your understanding, sir.'

With that, he disappeared into the kitchen once more and with a grin, the stranger noted he breathed a long sigh that was unmistakably one of great relief. Taking up the chopsticks, the stranger dipped a roll into the soy until the underside was suitably covered and popped it into his mouth. As he ate, he resumed his steady gaze upon the street outside and was gratified to see that the rain that had been pouring insistently for the last hour; had finally eased off.

With a satisfied smile, he finished the last roll and downed the remainder of his drink. Then, standing and retrieving his coat, he dropped several coins onto the plate and made for the door. Seeing the waiter approach him on his way out, he nodded briefly to the plate and the waiter smiled and responded with a short bow of thanks. Pausing to tip his hat at the little man and then, with a smirk, at the businessmen, the stranger left the quiet restaurant and descended upon the dark streets outside, his long black coat whirling about his feet as he walked.

Where to go now? The entire city of Shinjuku was open and waiting for him. As he stepped out from the alleyway, the lights of the lampposts streamed into his eyes, making him suddenly aware of the bustling streets littered with all manner of people, though primarily young and boisterous. The man licked his lips instinctively and his violet eyes seemed shot with a sudden predatory glint. Now the necessary had been gratified, it was time to satisfy his real hunger. In the centre of the city, there were all manner of clubs and bars.

The thumping sound of underground music echoed around the steaming air and vibrated the asphalt beneath his feet. He wandered the streets for a time, as was his manner, whilst keeping a weather eye open for anything that looked suitable. Here, he blended in well. All around there were people dressed in all manner of clothing and his was certainly not to be seen as anything unusual. A little eccentric, possibly, but not anything strikingly peculiar.

Finally, as he rounded a street corner, his searching gaze fell upon a woman crouching down by the closed doors of the shops. The contents of her handbag were spilled in all directions and as people bustled by her, ignoring her existence, he heard the rather colourful string of curses she muttered under her breath as they jostled past her.

'Here' he said gently, handing her purse to her.

She snapped her head up to stare incredulously at him and her expression was one of utter surprise but a deep underlying gratitude.

'Oh…thanks' she said, stuffing her purse back into her bag, her rage apparently lowering to a simmer.

He wasn't about to leave her now. Offering his gloved hand to her, he helped her to her feet and watched thoughtfully as she brushed dust from her skirt and hair.

'Akabane' he smiled, tipping his hat to her.

She smiled back at him, looking a little wary, but nonetheless intrigued. 'Miaka'.

'A pleasure to meet you, Miaka' he said, his voice falling like liquid satin about her ears. 'You seem no worse for ware, so I shall leave you now, no doubt you'll be meeting your friends presently.'

As he turned, a light voice stopped him in his tracks. 'Oh no, sir. I travel alone most nights in this city. Just to see what I can find around, you know?'

Akabane smirked and chuckled, before turning back to face her, his expression quite unreadable. 'I know exactly what you mean. It is much easier to … prey, shall we say, when there is no one around to distract us.'

'Why, you're one of those vampire types, aren't you?'

'I beg your pardon?' Akabane managed to rearrange his rather flattered expression into one of supreme confusion.

Miaka flushed. 'I meant you describe your actions to that of vampires, even though you don't suck blood or anything like that. Don't worry; I've met people like you before.'

Akabane couldn't restrain a grin. 'Oh, my dear Miaka. I think I can say with great conviction that you have not.'

With that, he offered his raven clothed arm which she took quite happily and they disappeared into the crowds.

'I was saying to myself before I met you just now that the whole of Shinjuku is open for exploration and I was going to wander until I found somewhere that suited my … tastes. However, is there anywhere that takes your fancy?'

Miaka paused for a second, apparently thinking hard and then shook her dark head. 'Nope, can't say there is anywhere particular. As I say, I usually just move from place to place seeing what I can find. My college friends live on the other side of the city you see, so I just come out by myself and make new friends in this area.'

'You're a student?' he said with an apparently impressed nod. 'How nice.'

Miaka nodded. 'Yes, it's not so bad. How about you? What do you do?'

'I conduct a variety of occupations with my time, Miaka, though I am afraid it would do for me to divulge their details.'

Miaka's eyes widened. 'Oh, I see. That's okay. I thought you looked a bit more classy than some of the guys down this area. Any job with secrecy attached must employ people with clothing style.'

'You have no idea' he replied with a wink, chuckling softly.

Quite suddenly, Akabane's shoes took on a livid green tinge and he looked up. Beside them was an open door from which neon lights where dancing in the doorway and upon the pavement. He glanced at Miaka.

'How about here?'

She nodded. 'Looks okay to me – let's try it.'

The air downstairs in the club was stifling. Cigarette smoke hovered in the atmosphere jus inches above their heads and the stench of sweat and alcohol filled their noses. The thundering music from the band on the platform made Akabane's head pound, but this did nothing to start a headache. On the contrary, the pulsating rhythm that suddenly assaulted his body and mind spurred his attention onto the female beside him and he steered her over to the bar.

The barman looked the new arrivals over and then sniffed. 'What?'

Wincing internally at the man's severe and depressingly primitive lack of anything resembling manners, Akabane cleared his throat. 'One whisky please, and …?' He paused and looked questioningly at Miaka.

'Oh, you don't have to … I have money!'

Akabane shook his head as she got her purse out. 'I wouldn't hear of it. Now put that away … what would you like?'

Looking more comfortable with the situation, Miaka nodded. 'Allright then, a vodka would be nice, thanks'.

They found a corner in the club that was a little way away from the ruckus of the dance floor and settled into the scarlet couch.

'Akabane-san, may I ask you a question?'

He paused, looking up from his drink and fixed her with a scrutinizing stare. 'Clearly you have already done so. You have my permission to put another to me however.'

Miaka bit her lip, and for a moment it seemed that she was going to ask him to forget she had mentioned it, but then she spoke. 'Why are you so nice to me?'

'Well, why not?'

'Oh, please don't misunderstand me, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just, well; we've never met before … ever! Then, well you saw out in the street. No one in Shinjuku helps anyone unless there is profit in it for them. Why are you so…different from the rest?'

For a time, Akabane didn't answer her, but merely looked at her, as though deep in thought. 'Tell me this, Miaka. Who is to say there is no profit for me?'

'Well, I…no one, I guess. Is there any?'

'Any what?'

'Profit in it for you?'

'There might be' he said simply, draining his glass.

'Oh, I see' Miaka replied, nodding and turning her attention back to her drink.

'But what you must understand, my dear, is that there was no profit in my helping you at the time. Whether our meeting results in any profit or not is left up to its own fate.'

He smiled in an almost brotherly fashion as she faced him once more, also smiling albeit a little ashamedly.

'Forgive me' she said, 'I just had to know.'

'Miaka, there is nothing to forgive. It was an innocent enough question. If I had not wished to answer you, then I think I can assure you that I would have refused to reply; and you would have been blushing decidedly more than you are at present.'

'I'm blushing?' Miaka stared at him in horror.

Akabane nodded, looking quite amused. 'Indeed it certainly seems that way. Oh, dear girl, don't look so mortified. It is a perfectly rational and normal bodily function.'

Miaka couldn't help but laugh. 'I can't help it.'

'I know that you can't. But if it irritates you that much, you can learn to control its intensity.'

'How?'

'Ah' Akabane's eyes narrowed and the corners of his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 'That is one of my many closely guarded secrets.'

Miaka scooted closer to him. 'Go on, tell me …' she wheedled.

Akabane flicked his gaze down at her, apparently considering her request for a moment before shaking his head in mock grievance. 'No, I do not think I shall.'

'Please!'

'No'.

Akabane shifted further down the couch and couldn't help but chuckle at her sullen expression.

'What will it take for you to tell me?' she coaxed.

Akabane shrugged. 'I have no idea. My resilience to baiting is uncommonly strong.'

Miaka sighed and resumed her sitting position and Akabane, satisfied she had given up for the time being, returned to his former space. For a while, they sat in silence, watching the band perform on stage and Akabane fleetingly noticed with interest that her foot was tapping quite instantly to the beat of the drums and bass. Well, the girl had good musical taste, which was something at least. He scanned the bar area and the tables around and sighed a little depressively. Why were these places always so full of fools? He watched with grim satisfaction as a young man, clearly thoroughly soused, was hauled from an escalating fight by the bar. He shook his head, clicking his tongue in distaste.

'Such needless violence' he muttered, acquiring an agreeing nod from Miaka.

As the band finished their song, he watched as Miaka finished her drink and then turned to him. 'Dance with me?'

'What?'

Despite himself, Akabane couldn't help but look stunned at her sudden proposal. 'Now?'

'Yes, silly,' she giggled. 'Come on, I bet you're a wonderful dancer.'

True enough, he thought. He could dance certainly, but would it be of any value to his desired cause? He glanced up at the dance floor where people were milling around, chattering gaily. It seemed he could complete his wish right now if he so wanted, but then again, where was the fun in that? Prolonging his starvation would only make the final stroke so much more pleasurable.

'Allright then' he replied, smiling with a nod and offering his hand to her. Leaving the couch behind them, they made their way swiftly onto the dance floor where, once more, Akabane found himself completely at home as regarded his chosen attire. As the band struck up another song, Akabane's gloved hands instinctively settled themselves gently but securely about her waist. The song started, slow at first with a steady beat pulsing through its core. His gazed locked with Miaka's, Akabane took the lead, moving in perfect time with the music, lightly rocking to and fro, pulling her gently ever closer to him. As though he knew the song off by heart, no sooner had bare skin brushed against silken fabric; he swung her out as the band exploded with a deafening roar of bass metal.

They were gone.

As the music pounded in their ears, their movements grew ever more provocative. As though they were the only pair dancing in the room, they took their full command of the floor. Hands grasped at clothing and hair hung damp about their faces, silken with an onslaught of burning sweat. Finally, as the last bars approached, Akabane could stand the pressure no longer. This was the longest he had ever had to wait and he finally felt his debonair patience beginning to wane despite himself. With a deeply passionate growl, he yanked Miaka to him and wrapped his suited arm about her waist. Bending close to whisper in her ear, his voice dropped to a low tone that was laced with heated desire – a kind that she could never come close to understanding.

'Let's go'.

As they stumbled out into the streets, their minds buzzed with anticipation. Grabbing her arm, Akabane hurried from the club and headed down into the neighbourhood he was infinitely familiar with.

'Where are we going?' Miaka said as they ran.

'To a place where no one will ever find you.'

Miaka suddenly stopped in her tracks and stared at Akabane in confusion and fear. 'Wh –What?'

Damn!

Cursing himself wholly for letting his guard down at such a stupidly crucial moment, Akabane turned back to her, taking care not to take a step forward. For if he did, he knew she would bolt and the game would be over. He couldn't let that happen. Not now, not after all he had been through to get this far. He would not be clichéd for he knew that would frighten her away even more. Quick as lightning, he chose his response.

'Yes. Where no one will ever find you.'

A ringing silence fell.

'What do you mean?'

'My dear' he said, shaking his head and trying his best to regain his composure. 'I mean that I do not want you to be stumbled upon when engaged in private matters.'

Miaka's eyes narrowed and she backed away further. 'Then … shouldn't you have said "us"? "Where no one will ever find us"?'

Once more, Akabane shook his head. 'No, for I do not mind in the least if I am stumbled upon. In fact, I would find it highly amusing. For you to be stumbled upon would be terrible and I will go to great lengths to ensure your dignity is left intact.'

Miaka stared at the man in front of her, clenching and unclenching her delicate fists. 'And you really mean that?'

'Every word'.

He held out his hand to her. He would not go to her; he would let her come to him. Only then would he have her unwavering trust once more and be able to finally do as he pleased. For a second, Miaka bit her lip, looking down at the outstretched palm with a little concern. He could see her fighting it. Fighting what was fast becoming quite inevitable. In her eyes he saw reflected the internal battle which she was losing masterfully.

Then, she took a step forward.

Come on, little rabbit, he thought as he gazed fixatedly from under the shadow of his hat. Come just a little further. That's right … don't run away to your burrow now…

And then it was over. Her small hand found his and he closed his fingers gently but firmly upon it.

'I apologise for scaring you just now. It was not my intention.'

Miaka nodded. 'It's okay. I'm just glad you explained it honestly.'

'As my ever loving mother taught me, Miaka, honesty is always the very best policy.'

As Miaka giggled at his bantering tone, his eyes flashed with triumph. He had her now. Caught and trapped. She could struggle all she wanted, but in the grip of his expertly spun web, would she be able to? Indeed, would she even want to? As these thoughts swam across the surface of his mind, he couldn't restrain a grin of mirth as he imagination constructed the possible image of upcoming events.

'What are you thinking about?' she asked, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her own mouth.

'Only that it appears we do not have far to go to our destination.'

A thoughtful expression suddenly graced Miaka's features and Akabane arched a brow. 'Now what are you thinking about?'

'Only that I believe we have already arrived there.'

'What?'

In explanation, she pulled his hand and hauled him down a deserted side street and into a dimly lit alleyway.

Akabane paused. 'Is this not a little squalid?'

In an instant, she was at his side, her breath hot against his ear. 'That's the point.'

'My, my, it really is true what they say. It really is the quiet ones you have to watch.'

'Quiet?'

She was in front of him now, her slim body pressing against his own willowy form.

'Quiet?' she repeated. 'Oh no. I assure you my dear Akabane-san, I can be very, very loud when the occasion calls.'

With a gasp, he felt his back make contact with solid wall and grinned. 'Very well, Miaka. You have made your intentions perfectly clear.'

Seizing the upper hand he whipped around and thrust her against the wall, one alabaster hand holding her own above her head, the other laced through her dusky hair. Finally, the painful gap between them was closed and their lips touched.

Slow and brief at first, utterly opposite to the searing fire of their individual lusts, but each drawing back slightly to fully savour the first sample of the exchange. Then, overcome with a deep desire stemming from that first taste, they all but lunged forward, their mouths crushing together in a furiously smouldering exchange. As his tongue gently ran against her swollen lips, she granted him entry which he accepted most gratefully, causing her to moan softly into his mouth.

Ravenous hands made quick work of upper clothing which was tossed aside, viewed as a terrible barrier between their aching flesh. As the heat between them increased to an intensity beyond all measurement, he felt his arousal press insistently against his trousers, throbbing with a deep and almost painful craving for fulfilment.

'Not yet' he silently hissed at himself. 'Not yet!'

Gently, and with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he trailed one gloved hand down her upper torso, finally coming to rest just above her navel.

'No…' she panted. 'No, don't stop!'

Leaning forward he nipped sharply at her earlobe. 'What? You want more, love?'

'Oh, yes! Yes!'

'Yes…what?'

'PLEASE!'

Smirking at her sudden carnal outburst, he moved his hand lower and under the confines of her skirt, finally coming to rest upon her inner thigh. He chuckled mildly as he heard her gasp and whimper at his slightest touch and grinned broadly when, as he brushed a single digit against the surface of her most intimate place, he felt her quiver and tremble.

Pressing his lips to her stomach, he kissed his way slowly upwards, pausing for a moment with his tongue to encircle a beautifully peaked breast. Leaning against her, he buried his face into her neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate pink flesh, revelling in how, in her utter naivety, she arched against him, her breathing quickening to quite an alarming rate. Then quite suddenly, he stopped. Snapping his head up he looked her squarely in the face, his eyes shining with heated pleasure and a grim determination.

'Look into these eyes, Miaka' he commanded, his voice retaining that musical tonality.

At once, she did so, and Akabane saw with great satisfaction, a pleading, a begging for her ultimate release. Pressing himself against her once again, he stared deep into her eyes. 'You want me don't you?'

She nodded furiously, seemingly incapable of summoning any vocal sound.

He sighed, feigning distress and looked at her sadly. But not physical expression, no matter how convincing, could ever now mask the true emotion that frolicked within those purple orbs. 'I am afraid that cannot happen, Miaka.'

'What? Why n - '

Her eyes widened in terror and her mouth dropped open in a scream that no one could hear.

'My sincerest apologies. It would appear I have broken your heart.'

Looking down, Akabane noted the gleaming blade protruding from his person and buried deep inside Miaka's chest. With a flick of his wrist, the blade vanished into thin air, and he stepped back. Miaka slumped down the filthy wall, her eyes open, staring and utterly lifeless. As she crumpled at his feet, Akabane smiled broadly, watching as scarlet liquid blossomed over her pale skin.

He dressed quickly, pausing to straighten his tie. Then, nodding to the lifeless corpse, he placed his hat back upon his raven head.

'Such a pity, my dear Miaka. But it has been a pleasure indeed.'

Tipping his hat to her, he turned on his heel and exited the alley, the only discernible sound being the light clicking of his shoes against the concrete as he walked and the distant rumble of music and the excited chatter of people, out in the city for a night of fun and entertainment.