Fandom: Ai No Kusabi
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. This story is not for profit.
Rating: M
Warnings: Male/male affection, violence
Characters: Raoul, Katze, Guy, Kiri
Summary: Everything has a price, and sometimes a job half-done, an unresolved issue or a broken promise comes back to haunt.
xxx
Soft and grey, the morning rises above the city. Silent light washes through the panorama window and bathes the study in stillness. A swath of it creeps through the open door of the bedroom, soaking up shadows in its path and lending Raoul's hair a pallid hue. Katze picks up one long, tangled strand and lets it slide through his fingers. Raoul is sleeping on his stomach, his long, muscular body sprawled out amid the messy sheets, the blanket bunched by his feet.
Katze smiles faintly, and for a moment he closes his eyes to let himself sink back into the past night. He can feel it in his body, a welcome heaviness in his limbs, the heat of what he and Raoul have done still there, simmering and ready to flare at a touch, a word, a breath. He touches his mutilated groin, cupping it, feeling the scars with his fingertips, and bites his lips as he allows himself to feel sparks of pleasure, like streaks of lightning over a heaving sea. The image of his body in the scanner, smooth and whole, presses into his thoughts again, and the heat fades away. He has been dreaming about it and woken shaking, bathed in sweat, his heart racing and his chest tight, one of his many nightmares.
Quietly, he rises and goes to get his cigarettes from the glass desk in the study. He pulls on his jeans and lights up as he steps out onto the terrace. The city seems subdued in the pale dawn, a strange lull that will soon burst into the noise and bustle of the day. Katze leans over the bannister and lets the cool breeze caress his skin. Sucking in a lungful of smoke, he lets his head loll. He can feel showers of goosebumps cover his body and his nipples harden in the morning chill, and savours the sensation, the memory of touch that comes with it.
"You look good like this," he hears Raoul say, and then his warm, heavy hand slides from Katze's lower back up to his shoulderblades. "But you look better naked."
Katze laughs. "I'm not sure your cronies would agree."
Raoul joins him, still unclothed, and gives him a sideways glance. "Some might be jealous."
"What, of you screwing the boss of the Ceres slums?"
"Of my companion."
Katze straightens and flicks some ash away. His golden gaze meets Raoul's green eyes. They look at each other for a moment, then Raoul leans in to touch Katze's scar with his lips. "Beautiful," he murmurs, an odd tenderness suffusing his voice.
Almost too much for a man, thinks Katze. He wraps his arm around Raoul's waist and kisses him back firmly. "Bullshit," he laughs hoarsely, and the moment breaks.
xxx
Back at Katze's place, Kiri has swept the garage and made the bed in the room above. He also has a message for Katze, a friendly invitation to negotiate certain business arrangements that relate to one of his clients, the club where he picked up Kiri. It has been an uneasy working relationship, and he makes up his mind to end it and replace the manager, but this is something he will do in person.
Calling in old debts, he thinks as he gets into his red roadster. They all catch up with us. Well, here we go...
xxx
In the semi-darkness of the road behind the club, Katze parks his car and cups the fresh cigarette wedged between his lips to shield the flame of the lighter. For a second he closes his eyes as it flickers over his face. The blow hits him at the base of his neck, between his shoulderblades. It knocks the breath from his lungs and makes his world go black.
xxx
The world has turned into a blur of heat and dust. He can taste dust filling his mouth, grinding between his teeth. It fills his eyes, making him blink. Black and red spots dance before him, on the hot concrete his face is pressed against. A stalk of dry, yellow grass pokes into his nose. He tries to shift and grunts as a spike of pain tells him he is still alive. He comes round slowly, his head thick with a blinding ache that wells from the base of his skull and spiders out into his limbs, tingles in his fingertips and toes. His hands are bare, and he has lost his boots. He tastes blood, sweet and steely, seeping from his bitten tongue. It is an effort to regain his bearings. His hands are tied behind his back and knotted firmly to his ankles. He can see the ends of his belt. He is still wearing his coat but his jeans are unbuttoned and rucked down to his naked feet, exposing him. A wave of nausea knots in his stomach, and he struggles to fight it down. Something about this seems familiar, but he can't place it, can't think, his mind on autopilot, survival instinct drowning out everything but one thought.
Stupid.
Summer in the city smells of engine oil, fuel and the foul reek of the slums. The sun is beating down. He can see lumps of concrete, rusted and mangled steel girders, balls of tumbleweed and litter. A distant hum makes the ground beneath him vibrate. He starts shaking, the chill of shock seeping into him. Groggily, he shifts, trying to get up, working the belt that keeps his wrists and ankles together. Gritting his teeth, he makes it to his knees.
"And now," a voice cuts into his souped brain, "stay like that. On your knees. You look good like that."
It clicks. It isn't even surprising.
"I always wondered what you looked like down there."
Katze tries to shuffle around. He freezes when he hears the snap of a security catch. He can sense the gun trained on him as if it was poking his ribs.
"Don't turn. I'm going to enjoy this." A small pause, the click of a lighter, then a deep breath and the smell of cigarette smoke. "You really think I was finished, huh?"
"Guy," Katze grinds out. "You're being stupid."
xxx
