OF MUSIC AND MAGIC

Part One

Just once I wish Kritiker would get things right, Aya thought to himself. Anything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

First the information on the strength and number of bodyguards around their target provided them by Kritiker. Then the electronic surveillance equipment hadn't been in the control center with the monitors like they had been told, and they had had to hunt down the damn things. Finally they found the right place, got Omi and Ken settled in to take over the monitoring paraphernalia while Aya and Yohji had left to take out the target.

Somehow Siberian and Bombay had been discovered and now the youngest member of the Weiss team sported a bullet hole to his left shoulder that wouldn't stop bleeding. Ken had hustled the injured teenager out of the building, come back, set his charges and should be on his way out of the structure.

Now if he and Balinese could take out the target without any new difficulties rearing their ugly heads, then they would be fine. Always complete the mission. Some days it wasn't worth getting out of bed.

Aya peered around the corner and a flash of white caught his attention. White linen reflected the dim night lighting of the corridor. And a familiar body filled out the shoulders of the sport coat. Schwarz. Damn! It would have to be Crawford and his cronies. The precog stood staring at his hands and mumbling under his breath.

"Where are they?"

"Problems, Herr Leader?" Schuldig's nasally, sarcastic voice echoed softly down the hallway.

"Yes, Schuldig, there's a problem. Well, perhaps not a problem, but a difficulty. I can see a hundred different possibilities for tonight, but none of them stand out as a definite. And I'm going to need to shut my gift down; it's giving me a headache." He snarled at the speaker just above his head. "I wish they would turn that damned folk music off at night."

"Crawford," the red-haired German said, "we really need to get your hearing tested. There's no music. Or Muzak either."

"Hmph," the dark American snorted. "Can you find the kittens anywhere?"

"Of course, I'd be able to find Kuduo by his smutty thoughts." Schuldig became quiet, his body tense as he looked for his prey. "Shyst!" he spat.

"What?"

"I can't …" a mind-numbing scream echoed down the almost empty corridor drowning out Schuldig's voice.

Farfarello staggered down one of the connecting side hallways, his fingers tightly clenching his head. "Hurts! God is angry! It huuuuuuuurts!" The crazy knife wielder sounded almost sane. As if the pain was rescrambling his twisted neurons to feel the pain that they had forgotten. Nagi followed in the man's footsteps, a look of consternation spread across his features.

"Let me guess," Crawford hissed, dryly, "Your powers aren't working any better than the rest of ours. And would someone please shut that damn music off!" With a quick motion, he emptied his .9mm into the overhead speaker.

Yohji quietly collapsed against the wall, his body shaking with silent laughter and Aya's lips twitched. The sound of retreating footsteps reached the two assassins' ears, telling them that their rivals were conceding the day.

Find the target, Aya said, using the hand codes that Omi had designed.

Gotcha, Yohji motioned back, getting himself back under control and moving stealthily down the now empty passageway. A light, heady mix of cologne, musk and cigarettes wafted behind him, stirring the redhead's blood to near boiling. Sometimes it amazed him that they didn't rip each other's clothes off and do the nasty deed in front of the corpse.

Mind out of the gutter, Abyssinian, he thought. Pay attention to your surroundings. Schwarz may have left the playing field, but that doesn't mean the rest of the asshole's guards are going to be so nice.

The kill went off without a hitch. The mark did the usual and offered them money, drugs, booze, women: anything they could ever need or want in order to save his pathetic life. He died, just like the thousand ones before him did. Justice was served by a quick, virtually painless slash of his katana. He had never seen the sense in torturing a mad dog.

"Abyssinian. Balinese," Ken's voice crackled into his ear.

"Abyssinian, here. Go ahead."

"Where are you guys?"

"On our way out. Target terminated."

"Finally," Ken snapped. "You do remember that you've only got like about two and a half minutes before the building comes down around your ears, don't you?"

"Shit!" Aya swore, remembering that he had told Ken to set the timer on the explosives instead of using a detonator this time. "I do now." He grabbed Yohji's arm and started the mad dash for the door. "Bring the car around to the north entrance, but be careful. Schwarz is hanging around and we really don't have time to convince them that it's in all of our best interests to take the fight away from a high rise that's going to explode."

"Roger that, Abyssinian. See ya at the north entrance." The former soccer player broke contact.

Yohji led the way through the tangle of hallways, his long, lanky legs stretched to their utmost. The two of them reached the north narthex with thirty seconds to spare. Aya burst through the doors, slamming the outer one into the figure that had been on its way in. A guitar case and a long white, red-tipped cane flew out of the man's hands as he hit the pavement.

Long white cane? Oh shit! He's blind! Ran through Aya's mind. Blind and getting ready to enter a deathtrap.

"Balinese," he snapped, "grab the case and the cane! Then let's get the hell out of here!" Grabbing one thin wrist, he pulled the young man to his feet and dragged him to the waiting vehicle. "Get in!"

Wide, blank, sage-green eyes turned toward the sound of his voice. The man's hands shook with fear as he complied with the harshly spoken order. He climbed in the door that Aya held open for him and settled in next to the injured Omi.

"Please," he pleaded, "I don't have that much money. But you're more than welcome to it. Just don't kill me or … ah ….rape me."

"Rape you?" Yohji sputtered as the vehicle squealed away. Ken had the gas pedal pressed level with the floorboard. The mission van swerved in and out of the slowly thinning traffic. "Slow down, Siberian, he'll be all right." The tall man tried to sooth his teammate.

"I called Manx," Ken's voice cracked slightly under the stress. "She said she'd meet us at the hospital."

"Good, then we'll get things taken care of."

"Excuse, but I smell blood," the young stranger in the backseat said. "Why do I smell blood?"

"Just ignore it," Aya snapped.

"But…."

"I said ignore it!"

Sage green eyes turned toward him as he snarled and the streetlights gave Aya enough light to study their unwelcome guest with. Those green eyes looked at him from a face whiter than snow. One full, pale rose lip was being worried between white teeth and a single crystalline tear rolled down the high cheek-boned heart-shaped face. Silvery blonde hair was pulled back into a braid and the eyes showed smearing signs of eyeliner and mascara. He wasn't very big, perhaps an inch or two taller than Omi, but more fragile and delicate looking. In other words, he was the most delectable creature Aya had laid eyes on in a long while.

The young man began to hum, his strong tenor capturing everyone's attention. He turned toward the injured assassin and pulled a pair of red bandanas out of his pocket. Quickly, he felt under the youngest Weiss's shirt and placed them over blood-soaked bandages. Still humming he turned back to face the front of the van.

"What did you do?" Aya demanded, grabbing the man's wrist in a bone-crushing grasp.

"Nothing," he whimpered, trying to free his imprisoned wrist. "Just put some more bandaging on it. So he doesn't bleed out. There's a lot of blood on the gauze and it was running onto the seat. I could feel it." He winced as the bigger man tightened his hold again. "Please, you're hurting me!" The panic was very evident in his voice.

"For god's sake, Abyssinian," Yohji snapped, finally losing his temper with Aya's attitude. The ground under the swiftly moving vehicle shuddered with the explosion from the high-rise. "Finally! I think Siberian is losing his touch." Omi gave a little sigh and fell forward into the back of the driver's seat. "Omi!"

Aya grabbed the young man that sat between him and his fallen teammate, slamming him into the unyielding side of the van. He yelped and slipped into unconsciousness, sliding between the middle rows of seats.

"Fuck Aya!" Ken screamed back at him. "What the hell did you do?"

"He got between me and Omi," came the sullen reply. "Besides, we don't owe him anything. We're the ones that saved his life, remember."

"Dipshit," Yohji growled at him. "We're the ones that put his life in danger, remember? And you're the one that insisted on bringing him with us."

"Shut up, Yohji!" Aya snapped, cradling Omi's slight form in his arms. "How much longer, Ken?"

"About three minutes. Why?"

"He's doing better, but I don't like the fact that he just all of a sudden decided to pass out." Aya's hands stroked the soft, fair hair off the boy's face, crooning almost soundlessly as he gently rocked the limp body back and forth. "How the hell did this happen? Why weren't you watching his back?"

"Look, there's nothing that you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. I don't know what went wrong, but it did and let's hold off throwing the blame around until he's getting the help he needs, okay?"

Yohji canted his head to one side. "Speaking of things going wrong, what the hell do you think happened with Schwarz?"

"I don't know…."

"Wonder what they wanted," Ken mused.

"Who knows? Crawford probably was bored and decided to try and tweak Aya's temper."

"What happened?"

"Something or someone interfered with their gifts. Crawford couldn't see any further into the future than you or I. Schu became deaf to others thoughts. Nagi lost his telekinesis and Farfi got a dose of the pain he so loves to inflict."

The turn for the Magicbus came up and Ken nearly missed it, only making by squealing the tires as he rounded the corner, almost putting the van onto two tires. The automobile came to a screeching halt in front of the emergency entrance and the trauma team, which had been waiting for them, grabbed the injured assassin and whisked him into one of the special rooms. Manx waited for them inside.

"Why don't you boys go on home?" she questioned, tossing her auburn hair over one shoulder. "We'll let you know when Bombay is able to leave."

"No," Aya said, his voice low and menacing. "We'll wait until the doctor comes out and talks to us."

"Whatever."

The three remaining members of Weiss took turns staring into the small window in the trauma room door, watching as the physicians worked on their wounded friend. Yohji rejoined the other two soon after he took his post.

"The doctor's coming," he said in response to Aya's unspoken question. The elderly, glasses wearing gentleman joined them in the little waiting room, a puzzled look on his face.

"Well," Ken asked, the tension causing his voice to crack.

"Your friend doesn't appear to be as injured as we were led to believe."

"What?" Ken yelped.

"Excuse me," Aya and Yohji asked at the same time

"We did find evidence of a gunshot wound," the doctor held up a slightly mashed bit of metal. "But the injury looks to be about a week old. The entry wound is nearly healed and the bullet was resting on the skin under the pad of bandanas that were covering it. There was some sign of bone chipping, but the body had reabsorbed the fragments. When did you say this happened?"

"Not more than an hour ago," Aya responded.

"I don't know what to tell you boys. But he's sleeping while we give him a couple of pints of blood. When that's finished, you're more than welcome to take him home."

"Thanks," Yohji said, sitting heavily down. After the doctor had left them he sighed and looked at the other two. "What the hell is going on here? Would someone be so kind as to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Aya answered, sitting next to his friend and casual bed partner.

"Well," Ken slowly drawled, "we know that it isn't Schwarz being friendly. We might as well not question our good fortune."

"Hmph," Aya snorted.

They waited for almost three hours, before Omi was wheeled out of the room, cheeks rosy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"I'm ready to go home, Ken-kun," he chirped at the former soccer player. "Did we get everything taken care of?"

"Done and done," Yohji answered, smiling at the boy.

"Good. Now can we go?" He looked up at Ken through half-hooded eyes. "I'm really tired and ready for bed." His lips caressed the last word suggestively. Yohji burst out laughing at the poleaxed expression on Ken's face.

"Well, we know how you're going to spend the night, or should I say morning? And don't worry, Aya and I will be more than willing to cover Ken's shift at the shop." The crimson-haired swordsman glared at the lanky form standing near him.

"We will?"

"Sure. Somebody's got to stay with Omi and since Ken's the one balling him into exhaustion every night…."

Aya watched the sable-haired athlete flush and then give his taller teammate a shy smile. "Right. Let's go home."

Yohji climbed into the driver's seat, letting Ken hold the recovering bishounen on his lap. The golden-haired boy snuggled close and fell asleep on his lover, the effects of blood loss and the stress of the mission finally catching up with him. The chestnut-haired beauty watched, in the rearview mirror, as azure eyes drifted contently close.

The journey back to the Koneko was uneventful. The traffic started to thicken on the opposite side of the road as rush hour drew near. With practiced ease, he maneuvered the van into the underground garage beneath the shop and parked it near Seven and Aya's Porsche. As the engine died, Ken stood, cradling his lover in his arms and opened the sliding door of the vehicle.

"I'll see you guys later," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," Yohji responded, a mischievous grin slowly lighting his face. "Just remember, he does need his sleep."

"YOHJI!" Ken sputtered, nearly waking the sleeping form in his arms.

"Yes?" he innocently asked. "Don't worry about the door, I'll get it for you,"

"Thanks."

He moved over to shut the open door and a flash of white caught his eye. A thick white braid peeked out from under the seat, along with one slender, nearly bloodless arm. "Oh shit!"

"Yohji?" Aya asked, drawing closer.

"We have a problem."

"And that would be?"

"Look." He pointed to the arm and hair. "I think we totally forgot about something, now didn't we?"

Aya shot him a look and if looks could peel skin, he would be standing there trying to hold in his internal organs. Then he glared at the unconscious figure in the van. With a sigh of disgust, he reached in and pulled the slight figure toward him.

"Where do you suggest we put him?" he asked a very short leash on his temper.

"Why don't we put him in your room for tonight, it's not like you're going to need, now is it?"

Aya raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

" 'Cause there's no way in hell that I'm going to sleep on plain ol' cotton sheets when I've got silk ones on my bed." He gave his lover a smoldering look. "Besides, you like the way the silk slides against you, remember?"

"Oh yeah." He cradled the unconscious form against his chest, close enough that he could feel the iciness of the other man's skin and the slight tremors that rippled through his body. "Yohji, I think he's in shock."

"You think?" the chestnut-haired man sarcastically said. "Why ever would he be like that, hm? Maybe because we snatched him off the street threw him into the back of the van with a bleeding assassin and then bounced him off the walls of said van? He's really got no reason to be shocky now does he? Add the fact that he's got a gash the size of Tokyo between his eyes probably added to the problem."

"Thanks for the running commentary, Kuduo." Aya shifted his burden to a more comfortable position. The white-haired man smelled like musk, moss and something with an earthy, woody undertone to it. The scent nearly drove the assassin crazy with lust. He and Yohji really needed to deal with their little problem then retreat to the taller man's room for some serious fooling around. "We'll put him in my room."

"Thought you might see things my way," Yohji said, laughter lacing his words. The taller man preceded him into the apartments attached to the Koneko; a view that Aya wouldn't want to miss. Yohji's mission trench had been removed somewhere between the hospital and home, leaving his body nearly bare to the redhead's perusal. He looked good enough to eat and Aya wasn't the kind of person to let such a meal go to waste.

Chestnut-brown hair brushed his shoulders, where it wasn't drawn back into a tail, and framed a face that showed the best of both his European and Asian ancestors. Wide, green eyes rested in an expanse of lightly tanned skin, above a wide, lush-lipped, kissable mouth and a pert nose. High cheekbones and a squarish chin finished the landscape.

The black tee shirt he wore ended just below his ribcage, baring a wide area of honey-colored skin and hard muscle. The sweet dimple of his bellybutton rested just above the waistline of his low riders. The skin-tight black, leather jeans left nothing to the imagination. Aya could see the muscles of Yohji's thighs and ass ripple as he walked. He couldn't wait to lay his burden down and pounce on his addiction, not that he'd let Kuduo know how he really felt. Emotions were a dangerous weakness that a hired killer couldn't afford.

I am a murderer, he thought, bringing his mind firmly under control. I don't deserve love. Passion counted as one thing: love on the other hand had no place in his life. How Yohji managed to deceive himself for so long on what he was merited from this life he would never know.

They finally reached Aya's lonely bedroom. The torture on the stairs didn't leave the redheaded assassin feeling very generous toward his unwanted guest. Right now, he held his actions under a tight rein to avoid throwing the taller man down on the bed and having his way with him. Hunger and lust heated his blood and the swelling in his groin worked to distract him from the task at hand.

Yohji pulled the bedding back making it a little easier for his partner to position the injured man on the mattress. After Aya settled him, the tall man began undressing the white-haired man.

"Why don't you get one of the first aid kits?" he asked the smaller man. "That way we can get this done and move on to bigger and better things." He gave Aya a wicked look through his lashes and licked his lips.

Aya stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom on their floor. He grabbed the kit and hurried back into his bedroom. He shoved the box into Yohji's waiting hands and then stood back to watch the show. The chestnut-haired beauty carefully cleaned the wound with antiseptic then applied two butterfly bandages and a couple of thick gauze pads to keep the blood from oozing everywhere. Then he finished getting the other man's clothing off.

The sight of those smoldering green eyes, barely veiled by thick eyelashes nearly brought him to his knees. And watching the bronze-haired beauty undressing another man could be considered cruel and unusual punishment in nearly every civilized country. To view his tan hands drifting over the pale flesh of the strange young man, to see the differences in the skin tones left Aya caught between drooling and cotton mouthed.

"Yohji, aren't you done yet?" he snarled, twisting his body to hide his raging hard on.

"Patience," came the sultry reply. "Remember the old cliché, good things come to those who wait."

"I'm done waiting, Baka!" He grabbed for the almost delicate wrist of the tall assassin.

Yohji sidestepped the awkward attempt to seize him. It always stuck him as funny when the shorter man lost what little tolerance he had for waiting. And as Aya skidded across the area rug of his room, he considered his 'patient'.

"Do you think he'll be warm enough?" he asked, looking down into narrow, lavender eyes.

"He'll be fine. We'll just cover him up and let his sleep."

Jade eyes thinned in thought. "Maybe I should stay here with him? I mean we wouldn't want him to die on us, now do we?"

"Kuduo, you even think about staying in here and I'll be screwing your brains out on the bed with the stiff, understand?" Yohji threw his head back and laughed, the rich, steamy sound shivered up Aya's backbone to rest in his brain. With a low growl, he threw the taller man against the wall and brutalized his mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into the well of sweetness. His tongue tangled with the blonde's, both of them making deep nearly soundless moans of pleasure.

"Let me cover him up and we can go," came the breathless response to his unspoken question. "Don't want to lose him to the chill, now do we?"

"I don't care! I just wanna get him tucked in so we can fuck!"

Yohji quivered in anticipation. Aya's words left him hot and gasping, his groin bulging painfully against the skin-tight leather that incased it. He liked it when his lover talked dirty to him. And the heavy breathing coming from Aya told him what tonight's rendezvous would be like. The redhead's marking of him would last a good ten days or two weeks. He clutched his knees together to keep from crumpling to the ground. This would be the best session they had had in weeks. All thanks to a little blind angel who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Thank god for heavenly intervention.

As soon as the covers were securely placed around the unconscious figure, Aya yanked Yohji's wrist hard enough to rock his head half off his shoulders and dragged him into his room. Streetlights threw the room into a mix of shadow and light. The full moon helped to illuminate the scene. Not that he got to see much of it, as soon as they entered the shadowy light Aya fell on him; devouring his mouth with brutal lips. The redhead's teeth tore at his lips, breaking the skin, mingling the salty-sweet flavor of his blood in their kisses. The taste of it seemed to drive the shorter man insane with passion.

Aya pushed Yohji back until his legs ran into the edge of the bed and with a gentle push he sent the tall blonde sprawling onto the forest green silk of his comforter. The abrupt movement broke the all-devouring kiss and left one man standing and the other lounging on the soft surface of the bed.

"Pull back the comforter," Aya growled low in his throat.

"'Kay," Yohji responded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. When Aya acted like this, the taller man usually ended up with bruises and bite marks that hurt for days afterwards, but hell it was more than worth it. He carefully began to stand.

"No," came the quiet command. "Do it lying down."

"Y-yes, sir," he breathed, nearly fainting from the tension that hung in the air. He lifted the soft, salaciously decadent cover and slid it under his hips, lifting them in a parody of the act that would follow.

Lavender ice eyes tracked his every move, hands tightened and loosened into fists. With a swift motion, he drew a switchblade from its hiding place on his body. He pounced on the reclining form lying on the soft, cream colored, silk sheets.

"Don't move," he ordered in his deep, quiet voice. With quick, confident motions he cut the skin-tight muscle tee off the tall, lanky form of his lover, leaving his upper body exposed to the chilled night air. He grasped Yohji's wrists, locking them into the manacles fastened to the headboard and with a wicked smile, he grabbed the ones meant for his lover's feet from their positions on the footboard and reattached them to the heavy post of the headboard.

"A-Aya?" he choked out. "W-w-what are you…?"

"You've been a bad boy, Yohji," he whispered against the blonde's ear, "and you need to be punished. Now are you going to let me take off those pants or do they join what's left of your shirt?"

Leaf-green eyes grew bigger at the thought of replacing the skin-tight, low-riding, black leather pants that he favored for missions. Part of him really didn't think that Aya had the balls to cut the expensive, glove-soft leather. But the look in the redhead's eyes told him the truth; if he didn't allow the removal of the painted-on jeans he would have no problem using his switchblade on them too. He lifted his hips to facilitate the removal of the offending garment.

"Much better," Aya whispered, the soft words caressing Yohji's mind.

"Aya, please," he begged.

"Patience, kitten." Aya's deep, dark, whiskey voice sent shivers through his captive. His amethyst eyes glowed with lust and a deeper emotion, not that he would let the lanky blonde know what went on behind his icy mask. "You'll get your punishment soon enough."

With that soft pronunciation he grabbed one long bare leg, pulled it to the waiting manacle beside Yohji's head and locked it in place. The other ankle received the same treatment, leaving the taller assassin open to his inspection. He ran one finger up one of the "goes-on-forever" legs. The feather-soft touch sent another wave of tremors through his prisoner. He looked up at the taller man, through crimson bangs, his eyes sparkling with a lusty mischief and reached for the drawer that held their various implements.

"What do you think you deserve?" he asked, a wicked grin lighting his face.

"Ah, nothing," Yohji croaked, his throat gone dry. Gods, he loved it when Aya's walls began to come down. Maybe jealousy could be a good thing.

"Nothing?" came the purred question. "You take a stranger's side over mine and it's nothing? Tsk, tsk Yohji, you've been a wicked boy and you aren't man enough to take the consequences?" He withdrew a large feather from the drawer.

His wicked smile grew larger, nearly splitting his face in two. With that feral grin he brushed the plume against the sensitive skin on the backs of Yohji's thighs, moving it toward his calves and feet. Soft strokes stimulated the nerve endings in the imprisoned blonde's legs and when his partner began the slow climb back to his waist, he moaned and pushed his groin toward the sweet torture.

"Ay-y-y-ya!" he begged, needing release from the exquisite agony.

"We're not done," Aya whispered, his rich voice breathless. "When you are screaming for relief, then we will be done. But until that point, you will be quiet and remember who's in charge of this little game." His hand dipped into the drawer again, extracted a ball-gag and shoved it into his lover's mouth, fastening behind his head. The motion had been so quick that Yohji didn't have time to react and by the point he could respond the deed was done. "That's better." Was all he said as he went back to his work.

Yohji moaned behind the gag, tears of pain beginning to leak down his cheeks. Gods, the agony was exquisite as the soft feather brushed against his most intimate of places. The sweet pucker of his ass and the throbbing length of his cock received their fair share of attention from the lavender-eyed assassin.

Aya growled deep in his throat and tossed the feather away, let it drift slowly and forgotten to the floor. He stood and pulled his clothes off, yanking the tight shirt over his head and jerking his black jeans to his ankles. Thank god for the Japanese custom of removing shoes when you entered a home. At least he didn't have to waste valuable time removing his mission boots. He stood in the light that drifted in from the streetlights and the full moon like Eros, the god of lust and pleasure. His rod rose from its bed of scarlet curls and wept oily drops of pre-cum. With sure, experienced hands Aya smeared lubricant on the length of his cock.

The lanky blonde on the bed groaned, shuddered and twisted with anticipation, the thoughts of what that marble white body would do to his nearly brought him to the edge. With the striking speed of a feral cat, Aya pounced on his partner, devouring every inch of skin his lips could reach. And with no warning, preparation or any of the subtle niceties that usually marked their time together, he thrust himself to the hilt in the offered, tight orifice, making them both cry out.

The utter wildness of their coupling made Yohji forget about the pain of being ridden almost dry and all too soon he cried out behind the gag and shot his load onto his belly and chest. With the tightening of the taller man's muscles around his cock, Aya followed swiftly behind, collapsing onto his partner's chest. As soon as he could take a full, steady breath he moved off the lithe body that cradled his and began removing the various restraints and other implements.

"God, Aya," Yohji moaned after the gag was removed from his mouth. "What the hell got into you?"

"Just didn't like the way that … never mind."

One golden brow arched upward. "You were jealous, weren't you?"

"I … I … NO!" he sputtered, getting out of bed and reaching for his clothing.

"Aya," Yohji breathed, "please stay. I like it that you're jealous, it means that there's more going on here than just sex."

He turned and faced the man lounging on the silk covered bed. "We're assassins, murderers, hired killers, we don't deserve love. Hell, all four of us are dead and gods know that dead men don't fall in love."

"That maybe true, Aya. But while we are 'dead men' as you say, we're still living. And the ones that we murder are the ones that the police and others can't touch. I prefer to think of us as gardeners; we get rid of the weeds that would suffocate all the flowers to death. Now, are you coming back to bed or do I have to convince you that it's in your best interest to join me here?" His long, lean fingers began to roam over his body, stroking nipples then moving down to caress and fondle his cock and balls. The bed bounced as the redhead rejoined his lover in their silk encased bower.

On the street below the Koneko a man in black straddled a black and chrome Harley-Davison, looking up at the nearly dark building. A lighter flared up as he lit the cigarette dangling between his lips. The brief flash illuminated pale skin, silver eyes and white-streaked jet hair for a fleeting moment, then he settled back to continue his watch of the building.