'Ello again - it's Mimi once more. ^^; Rattling off another Deon fic. 333
I'd like to give out a few thanks -
To Pelafina; my roleplay partner - because i based a couple scenes from the story off our roleplay and she had a hand in it.
To Rex Luscus - because her fic inspired me to write this one. xD
To Eminem's song "Love the Way You Lie" - because it was the other half of the inspiration for this fic. x33
Please R&R when you're done. C: Thank you as always!
xxxx
It started the same way it always did. Neither of them could remember how - at this point, it didn't matter anymore.
"What the fuck, D!" Leon's outraged voice reverberated throughout the hallways of the shop, startling the nearby pets - they jumped and then peered in the direction of the voice. "You're always like this lately - what's your fucking deal!"
The reply came from a more feminine, ethereal voice, though it was no less filled with bitterness. "I'll tell you, detective - the deal is you, constantly here, getting your filth all over my furniture and upsetting the pets. It's astounding I have not yet - "
"Oh, so that's it? That's your fucking problem?" Leon interrupted, "you know what? I don't know how you even dare to bring up something like that, when just last night - !"
"That has nothing to do with any of this...!" And so on, as the voices grew steadily louder. The pets retreated further into the corners of their respective rooms as footsteps sounded down the hall, D's elegant tapping gait followed by Leon's comparatively heavy one. "Don't try and bring any irrelevant topics in, detective - whatever human tactics - "
Leon's interjection was now tinged with scorn. "Bullshit D - you're just as susceptible to 'human tactics' as anyone else."
The footsteps abruptly stopped as the Count whirled around, hair flying in a flurry, "despite what you may think, I am not like you." The words escaped his teeth in a steady hiss, "Do not even dare to compare - "
"Look at you!" Leon retaliated after a moment of shock. In earlier days, he would've been more stunned by the pure rage he saw in D's blazing eyes, but lately he'd gotten used to that. The footsteps started again. "Your temper's just as bad - who's so superior now, huh? Who's so fucking - hey! D! What are you - D!"
The cats gasped and scattered as the Count flung open their door and slid inside. The detective's face flashed by outside for a moment before D turned and yanked the door closed and locked it, effectively shutting him out. Leon's voice rose to an even more outraged pitch as he rattled the doorknob. "Fuck, D, let me in! What the hell do you think you're doing! Goddamnit D, son of a - !" His shouts continued for a few moments, accompanied by rattling and banging. The cats stared wide-eyed at the Count, back to the door, rigid with fury - they'd never seen him like this before. Mismatched eyes blazed, his expression twisted into an uncharacteristically inelegant scowl of hatred, disheveled curtain of coal-black hair framing his face wildly.
Silence for a few moments, and the pets thought for a second that the detective had gone, but then he spoke again, voice muffled by the barrier. "Come on Count, we always fall back to this." It was much softer now - almost pleading. "Please babe - it wasn't you, it was me this time. Come out D, please!"
The cats glanced up at D who had his eyes screwed shut as if he was trying to block out the voice, breath heaving. He said and did nothing in response, and only after Leon had hissed out one last expletive and the sound of his footsteps had faded down the hall did he move. As if all the strength had been drained from his legs, he slid down to the ground, knees to his chest, head in his hands. And he remained there for a long time.
How had this all happened? The name and number scrawled in a leaky black pen on Leon's hand - the source of their argument in the first place - had been forgotten completely once the insults and ugly blame had been thrown.
"What is the meaning of this, detective!"
"Fuck. It's nothing, I promise. I was drunk - nothing happened. Wait, where are you - ? Hey, D! Don't be like this!"
Sometimes, during times like this, the Count wondered why he started these arguments - somewhere in the back of his head, he knew Leon had not deceived him. When it came to this strange, yet-new emotion he called 'love', he was just as blinded. The detective wouldn't have slept with another, not while he was with the Count. So why had they fought about it? He didn't know. Where had the better days gone?
xx
Leon started down he sidewalk, hands jammed into his pockets. In the early morning, people avoided him once they saw the sour expression on his dace. When things were going good, they were great. But when it was bad, it was awful. Once upon a time, things had been better, like a fucking fairytale. Before the fights had started, before their words had become laced with venom. Where had the better days gone?
The blustery Alaskan air chilled both of them to the bone. Why did they have to plan to release the bison at such a late hour when it was freezing, the officers joked as they huddled about, noses tipped pink with cold, arms wrapped about themselves, stamping their feet in an effort to keep warm. A crowd had gathered and were watching, appreciative murmurs rippling, as the bison roamed about their new home. After years of captivity, they had finally been reintroduced to the wild. The officers, their crowd control job done, were meandering about, anxiously awaiting the dismissal so they could get out and go home.
D stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the beasts from his own vantage point apart from the rest of the crowd and the press' clicking cameras. A calm, appraising smile curved his lips. "They're beautiful, aren't they," he murmured, never taking his eyes off the lumbering bison as they tromped about, tails swishing idly, bellowing softly in appreciation.
"Yeah," Leon replied, subdued, as he shifted from one foot to the other, the cold nipping his cheeks red. "Kinda... takes your breath away, y'know?"
A soft hum of agreement from the Count, and then the silence, comfortable and companionable, settled between them. Leon's coworkers' glances and snickers fell on deaf ears as the seconds drew longer. Finally, Leon reached out, almost shyly, and slipped his rough hand into D's pale, slender one, tentatively lacing their fingers together. The Count looked up, blinked, surprise flickering in his bi-colored eyes, and for a moment Leon loosened his grip, embarrassed. But D smiled then and clutched his hand tighter, and the detective slowly relaxed, averting eye contact by way of some new timidness. They both turned back to the bison then, and remained wholly silent.
xx
The next time it happened, it was even worse.
"I keep telling you to keep your feet off the table, detective," D admonished off-handedly as he set the tea pot on the stove to boil.
Leon grumbled as he straightened up in the chair, "sorry." He sounded anything but. "You've got so many rules around here, I can't be bothered to remember them all."
D narrowed his eyes and turned to face the man who had, in his opinion, gotten too comfortable in these surroundings. "Must I remind you that you are still a guest here? You cannot simply walk in and do as you like as if you own the place."
The tinge of annoyance was not lost on Leon, who glanced up at the Count out of the corner of his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of another fight brewing. What was D's issue - did he have to turn every comment into something to argue over? It wasn't that big of a deal. "I'm sorry that you let me come here and let me stay as long as I want. You make me tea and offer me cake almost every single day, and I'm still a guest? Gee, I'd gotten the wrong impression." Volume rose steadily, and as he'd been speaking, D turned fully and took a couple steps towards him. And when he retaliated, his voice was cold with irritation.
"These are privileges, detective. Not rights. Everything you do here - and where do you think you are going?"
The clank of porcelain on glass echoed sharply as Leon set his plate down and stood, striding towards the stairs. "Leaving you."
"I do not think so," D hissed darkly and watched as the other man started up the steps.
"Yeah? Make me stay."
A few seconds later, Leon let out a cry of outrage and stomped down the stairs again. "What the hell? I know this is the front door, why are there fucking hallways - !" He stopped cold when he saw the smug look settling in a smirk on those perfect lips. That fucking superior smirk... The rage rose in a shade of red tinting Leon's face as he crossed the room. "You can't keep me here, D! I'm not your fucking prisoner - let me out!" He closed his fingers in the Count's collar, veins bulging in his forehead as he snarled. "Where is the fucking door, D!"
The Count maintained his cool composure, relaxed completely in the detective's vicegrip. "I don't understand - it wasn't up the stairs...?"
"Don't give me that shit, you asshole!"
"Now now, language - "
The breath was snatched from his lips as he gasped, the hard wood slamming against his back jolting the words from his mouth. His eyes snapped open in shock as he braced himself for balance against the wall where Leon had shoved him.
The detective's eyes were wide, nostrils flared in fury. "I'm fucking sick of your games, Count! You're a twisted murderer, and I was stupid enough to be trapped by you!"
A transformation came over D then, and his emotionless, apathetic mask gave way to a flash of anger, brow furrowing as his lips twisted into a scowl. "As I recall, you came here quite of your own free will, detective."
"Up until you started acting like a bitch!"
D fought to rein in his temper, but to no avail. The words that spilled forth, unbidden, were filled with that bitterness both of them had become so accustomed to lately. "And what are you detective - filthy and ungrateful! The pets I keep are better than you!"
An almost leonine roar of rage tore from Leon's throat as he lunged forward, and for a split second D nearly flinched. The sound of splintering wood filled his ears as Leon's fist re-routed at just the last second and plunged into the wall just beside his head. They were inches apart, Leon's other palm pressed flat against the woodwork, head bowed, shoulders quivering with emotion. D's heart fluttered with shock, and his mouth moved as if he was going to say something, but right then Leon's hands glided down the wall to take D's wrists, and at the same time his head lifted and their lips connected.
The kiss was filled with the same raw, unveiled emotion, anger transferred directly into passion of the same degree. Leon pressed closer, their clothed bodies rubbing together, deepening the kiss. D closed his eyes and allowed the man to slip hs tongue roughly forward, hands roaming quickly.
There was no hesitation, no teasing foreplay. The detective's fingers unfastened the sash about D's waist, and both his silken pants and underwear were pulled down impatiently from beneath his changhan, pooling to a pile of cloth about his feet. The Count's breath hitched in his throat at the brush of fingers against him, and he brought up a hand, yanking hard at the detective's short ponytail. Leon growled as his head was harshly tugged back and D blazed kisses along the skin of his throat, hungrily sucking and biting. each nip fading from a pinpoint of pain into pleasure. He closed his fingers around D's length and began stroking fast, causing the Count to stiffen and moan huskily.
"You like that?" Leon chuckled low, grin spreading on his face. His only reply was the brisk removal of his shirt, leaving D free to continue his ministrations down his chest. His breath escaped in a needy hiss when the Count closed his mouth around a nipple and pulled, and he in turn drew a satisfying gasp from D with a squeeze on his throbbing member.
Within another moment Leon's jeans joined the pile on the floor, and his own erection strained against the thin underwear barrier. He pulled D from the wall, shoved him onto the loveseat roughly, and straddled him, blue eyes dark with desire. Another few seconds and the Count's fine cotton changshan was tossed aside, fluttering momentarily before hitting the floor in a heap. Leon splayed his knees across D's thin chest then, arching back slightly so he could continue pleasuring the Count as before.
Soon the detective's undergarment joined the changshan on the floor, and Leon groaned as D craned his head up to capture his erection in his mouth. His tongue flicked and glided along his length, coaxing it to a pleasure so acute it was almost painful. The Count's throaty moans vibrated through his mouth, prompting Leon to stroke his shaft faster, loving the way D thrusted his hips helplessly. He himself inclined forward as much as he could, trying to push as much of his cock into that beautiful mouth as possible.
Finally, the Count pushed him back, the glimmer in his dark eyes conveying so clear a message that there was no need to speak. Leon bent down and trailed kisses down D's chest, stomach, abdomen, until the Count arched his back and groaned in frustration. Trailing his tongue slowly up D's brazen erection once, Leon could feel his desperate desire as keenly as though it were his own.
He wasted no time after that - a second passed, and then he forced himself into D with one rough thrust. The other's moan filled his ears and surged hotly through his veins, and he in turn snarled at the Count's sheer tightness, pushed close to the edge with just that one movement. He waited for the stars to clear from his vision, but by the time he'd managed to regain his bearings, D was pushing against him in a silent plea, nails digging into the fabric of the couch.
And the wave of lust made it so that Leon simply could not remain still any longer. He pulled back and thrusted, and their cries sounded together. Another couple thrusts and they had established an even rhythm. D's head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open as he panted heavily. Seeing him so vulnerable and filled with such wild abandon made Leon growl with pleasure, and he shifted, canting up from a new angle. The second or third thrust, D suddenly arched sharply and cried out, voice hoarse. Leon smirked and surged in again, harder this time, and the Count's desperate moan filled the room. Music to his ears.
"Leon - !" he stammered, and the detective understood, reaching out to pump D's erection at the same quick tempo. He loved how the Count reacted instantly, gasps rising in pitch. His breath stopped suddenly then, caught in his throat, and one last pleasure-filled sob escaped his parted lips as he came, seed spilling between them, coating Leon's hand and the Count's own belly. Leon was not long to follow, burying himself as deeply as physically possible and emptying into the Count with a half-formed oath.
Panting hard, they remained like that for a while until Leon crumpled to the couch beside D, completely spent. Within moments, the two had fallen asleep, the detective's arms wrapped lazily around D's long, slender body.
xx
A few days later, it was raining. Pouring, actually. The water was coming down in sheets as Leon made his way towards the pet shop, eyes focused hard on the pavement in front of him, brow knitted as if in deep thought. When he drew near the door, he was surprised to see the unmistakable figure of the Count stepping out, a flowing jacket over his rippling changshan, umbrella tucked under one arm as he turned and shut the double oak doors.
But the most baffling thing was the rather worn suitcase clutched in his right hand; Leon had never seen it before. "Hey, D!"
The Count whirled around and the shocked expression he wore was new to the detective - he wasn't used to him looking like a deer in headlights, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Within seconds, Leon was in front of him. "You headin' out - ? Wait..." Now up close, he suddenly noticed the puffiness around D's eyes, rimmed slightly red. His heart sank, "hey, have you been... crying?" It was a strange thing to even suggest - D and tears were two things that just didn't mix.
"Of course not," the Count retorted sharply - too sharply, in Leon's opinion. Either way, the furrowed brow and unconcealed frown showed that he wasn't too happy to see Leon here, which only strengthened the detective's resolve.
He shrugged, recognizing reluctance in D's tone and not wanting to further the topic. "Hey, can we step inside? I wanted to talk to you..."
D stiffened visibly here, and Leon tried not to be hurt by the wary look in his eyes. For the first time, he could lucidly see what an impact their fragmented relationship had had, the toll it had taken. Was this how things were now? He only wanted to talk, and D was cringing like they were marching to the gallows? "Detective, the last time you came to simply 'talk'..."
"I know, I know, and I'm really sorry about that," Leon rubbed the back of his head awkwardly with one hand and peered at D with an embarrassed look through a blond fringe that was getting rather long now. "Look D, can't you tell I'm being sincere - ? Do you think I'm lying? Look in my eyes, D!"
It was a cheesy line, but it gave the Count pause, though he still remained doubtful. The frown didn't seem to fit his unearthly visage, and at once Leon was seized with the urge to capture those lips again. But he didn't - he had come here to set things straight once and for all before everything seriously came crashing down, and he didn't want another argument. He was sick and tired of those.
"I, um... I brought something for you," he managed to choke out at last, producing a rather large box from behind his back. The effect was instantaneous - D's eyes brightened, albeit reluctantly, and he relaxed considerably, lips curling into a pleased feline smile.
"My... is that a fruit tart I smell? Hmm..." he seemed to deliberate for a moment, and then held up a slender hand. "Wait here a moment, detective." And then he turned and disappeared back inside. When Leon was invited in at last, the Count was as impeccable as ever again. His expression had reverted back to that serene, enigmatic smile, his face once more fixed in that impenetrable mask of tranquility. Any sign of earlier distress was gone without a single trace, and Leon was suddenly reminded, for the first time in as long as he could remember, that D was something else. His memory flashed back to the very first days when the Count was a complete mystery to him, before he had cracked that shell and all the secrets and emotions had come pouring out.
"So um, I just - well, first of all I wanted to say I'm sorry. I mean it - I'm really sorry..."
He averted D's eyes at first, but then realized that that might be taken the wrong way. Sitting down in his usual chair, he didn't immediately sprawl backwards nonchalantly, but remained upright in the seat, perching almost tentatively on the edge. The Count stood, not making any moves to prepare tea or cakes, and Leon took comfort in seeing that he was ready to hear him out. "Uh... I just... miss the way things were. Does that make sense? I want you back, D. I... I want us back. And these last few weeks have been - and I just love you too goddamn much to just walk away, D - "
He was jolted from his speech by the feeling of the Count's cool hand on his own, and looked up to see him bending down before him, a comforting smile and an almost sad glimmer in his mismatched, half-lidded eyes. That soft look... god, how long had it been since he'd seen anything but anger on that face? Leon felt the breath escape his lungs.
"I understand, my dear detective," D murmured soothingly in that melodic voice. "You do not need to say anything more."
Silence, and then Leon exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and feeling the tenseness melt from his muscles. "I don't? ... Great. Thanks, Count - I just couldn't take it anymore. I just lo - "
"I know, detective," came that gentle voice again as D slipped into a seat beside him. "... I do as well."
xx
The warble of birds marked the beginning of a new day as the sunlight filtered through the oriental windows of the Count's bedroom. The soft rustle of cloth accompanied the sound of Leon stirring, and he murmured something unintelligible as he woke, baby blue eyes glimmering with lazy affection. He reached to the side, and blinked when there was nothing but air. Turning, he raised an eyebrow - the Count must have already gotten up.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the darkened hall into the main room of the shop, shrugging his shirt back on and giving his head a shake to fix his hair into some semblance of its natural order.
"Good morning, detective," D greeted him, stepping out of the kitchen gracefully. His changshan that morning was a beautiful white and red flowing piece of silk, adorned with lacy sleeves and large ivory ibises circling his waist and chest. "I trust you slept well...?"
A smile tugged at the corners of Leon's lips, "uh, yeah..."
The breakfast was wonderful that morning - he couldn't remember the last time he had tasted the Count's cooking, but the muffins were delicious! They chatted idly about nothing in particular for a few minutes, just like old times, and Leon couldn't have been happier. The Count's smile was more genuinely kind than he ever remembered it, and everything seemed to be so very much better. Finally, the clock struck a dim 9:00 AM, and he sighed and stood, grabbing a muffin for the road. "Alright, I gotta go, or the chief'll be pissed. See you later, D." Easing himself out of the chair, he snatched his jacket from the back of the sofa where he'd draped it the night before, and, slinging it over his shoulder, headed up the stairs, the Count following elegantly.
"Indeed. Have a nice day," he replied, mysterious expression never faltering as he watched Leon start down the road.
A few steps out, and suddenly Leon paused and turned around, looking uncertain again. "Hey... D? You... you don't hate me... right?"
Surprise flickered in the Count's eyes, and then it melted into that porcelain smile again as he clasped his hands in front of him. "No, of course not, detective..."
xx
Things couldn't be better today - after painlessly and successfully securing a case on duty, Leon had been let off early for the day, and was now making his way to the pet shop, angel food cake in tow, dangling over his shoulder as he whistled jauntily. He would've added a skip to his step if that hadn't been completely strange, and was looking forward to D's surprise when he saw him arrive three hours earlier than usual.
When he approached the front door, he easily pushed it open with one shoulder, a broad grin on his face. "Hey, D - !"
In retrospect, he probably should have thought something was strange as soon as he'd stepped up to the store and noticed that none of the lights inside were on. But perhaps he'd been too wrapped up in his own jubilance. Now, facing the empty interior, his joyous expression slowly flickered and then died out, shifting instead to one of confusion. Something was wrong here - where were all the pets? The cages were empty; there was nothing on the shelves. As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the jingling of the bell seemed more solemn than he remembered.
Maybe D had stepped out for a bit, or something? But as soon as he thought that, he knew he was wrong instinctively - there was no sound. No chirping, no barking or the scuffle of paws to greet his arrival, nothing. And then his eyes went to the glass round table and saw that it was also completely barren - no cakes, no tea.
A cold pit began to form in his stomach, and he stepped cautiously forward, uncertainty etched deeply into the contours of his face as he glanced around. He had never seen this place so quiet - it was eerie as hell. "D?" he called, flinching at the echo of his voice back to him off the wooden walls. "Hey, D! This isn't funny." Maybe this was just one of the Count's games, one of his mindfucks that he liked to play with Leon all the time. But he had never gone this far.
He crossed over to the double doors in the back, and pushed it open with one hand, not liking the way it creaked as if it hadn't been used in years. A cold draft billowed against his face, and a cry of shock tore from his throat. There were no hallways - just a small backroom no larger than a storage closet. "What the - !" He dashed forward, dropping the gift, and pressed both hands to the back wall, not believing what his eyes were telling him. There had been halls back here - long, winding halls, and the Count's room had been just to the left...! But the wall was solid, solid and cold under his fingertips.
His hands fell limply to his sides and he stared blankly forward, dread settling like a stone in him and spreading through his limbs in a numbing cold. He turned back around and stepped into the main front hall, glancing around, hoping that D would step out from behind a couch with that smile and tell him it was all a joke. But seconds dragged by and nothing happened.
With a despairing groan, Leon sank to his knees with a thump, face fixed in shock. He could barely process the thought, and until now had been pushing it back with false hopes and excuses. But now it came creeping forward, growing louder and louder until it was blaring in his ears and he thought he was going to go insane.
The Count had left him.