When Balalaika offers him the pistol, he accepts it and instead of giving it back, he keeps it. Though it was not his hand that held it, it was his will that it be used to destroy the Kousa clan. This was the very first time he had actively caused the death of another without self preservation as a reason. It seemed only natural he carry the physical weight of the weapon along with his guilt.
xXxXxXxXxXx
When Revy and Gin duelled with steel and lead, Rock knew from the start how it would end. He and Yukio eventually wound up standing close together as they talked, her mind so far gone that she didn't even care to realise every casually spoken word was another knife to Gin's heart.
As the fight grew more intense, Rock casually got out a cigarette, offering one to Yukio who declined without a second glance. It was only natural to assume he would reach into his jacket for a lighter, so she didn't take her eyes off her champion when his hand disappeared once more.
Revy was caught off guard by an unexpected lunge and didn't manage to angle her cutlass properly to block the full force of Gin's sword. Her beloved pistol blew apart and she fell back with a cry.
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
Three shots cut through the tension hanging thick in the air and left the world silent for an age.
Gin looked down, sword still held halfway up over his head for a vicious downswing, and saw Revy's look of absolute surprise before he collapsed dead atop her. She froze for a moment then rolled him off to the side with a heave and looked around frantically for the unknown gunman.
There was no one else around.
Revy looked for Rock and found him trying to light a cigarette with a shaking hand, pistol held with white knuckles in his other hand. He finally got it lit and gave her a small smile.
She couldn't believe it. Without knowing what she was doing, her feet carried her across to stand in front of him. Yukio walked silently past her, neither acknowledging or even registering the other.
"You alright?"
Funny, she'd been about to ask him that.
His eyes looked past her then and she turned to look, before quickly turning back to him. She tried to get him to look away, to at least close his eyes, anything, but he didn't and then it was too late.
The young teenaged girl, dragged into becoming head of a Yakuza family through blood and politics, impaled her neck on her champion's sword and fell with a wet, drawn out gurgle over his body. Together in death as they could have been in life.
Revy looked back to Rock and saw his eyes still fixed on the pair. He hadn't blinked. She wasn't sure how she felt about that; the world had turned upside down with Rock shooting and killing someone and then watching a death even she would have rather not witnessed.
Reality asserted itself with the distant shrill screech of police sirens. Revy grabbed the sad remains of her broken cutlass before joining Rock in the Japanese van the Yakuza girl wouldn't be needing anymore.
The trip to the hotel was a quiet one, filled with a few words of thanks and explanation, and much needed nicotine smoke.
Balalaika and her trusted lieutenant Boris knew something had happened when they saw exactly how quiet Revy was, but she and Rock seemed fine and they would be leaving soon enough anyway. Besides, it wasn't that difficult to read the signs, a twitch, a blank expression and that look in his eyes; their little Rock was growing up.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Hotel Moscow was generous to those in its employ, more so to those that repeatedly did their work well, and it showed. Their room was as luxurious as they could bear, tastefully so, and comfortably sized. Balalaika's idea of a joke was to have them share a bed, but room service had been kind enough to bring in a single bed so Rock didn't need to sleep on the floor.
Revy had naturally claimed the original massive bed and slept on it diagonally so as to better relish the ridiculously large size. Rock didn't mind, the single bed was large enough for three at least. Not that he'd know anything about that.
Usually Revy didn't drink so much until the job was completely over and the money was in the account, but tonight she broke her rule with a vengeance. Room service brought up enough alcohol to kill an elephant and all its relatives, charged to the Russian guests down the hall, and before the sun had set she had piled up quite the collection of empty bottles.
Rock had conversely nursed his Bacardi, sipping for Revy's every other shot. Before long they were in the bathroom throwing up, her from the drink and him from the delayed shock of his first truly own kill. While he threw up to once, she kept going until he was holding her hair back and her head up. It was not the first time but it was the worst.
Eventually Revy's stomach was empty so he helped her stagger into the shower. She was really out of it this time and completely unable to stand up without his help, but she still had blood and sweat on her skin and he knew how much she hated waking up like that. For all her vulgar speech she loathed being dirty once the job was done, and she showered more than even him.
So he stripped her as much as he dared and held her under the hot water. It revived her enough to finish mostly without his help, so he waited with his back turned just in case she slipped. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet until she turned the water off. He caught her and wrapped her with a giant fluffy towel before spotting her soaked clothes on the floor. She had stripped down while his back was turned.
Rock wondered how many new holes he'd have if she woke up naked.
She'd probably reload and keep going.
He rubbed her dry and used another towel for her hair while awkwardly keeping her upright against him before slowly supported and half carried her to her bed. She was out cold before her head hit the mattress, legs dangling off the edge. He dried himself and changed into his loose pyjamas, before gulping down the rest of his drink.
Revy always slept in a loose tank top or singlet and a pair of panties. She didn't have anything else to sleep in. He would have to change her. While she slept. Unconscious. Never remembering anything he did.
Argh.
He went through her suitcase for what he needed and took several deep breaths. Her shirt was easier to get on her than he imagined. One arm at a time, then her head, and then he kinda rolled it down her with his eyes closed. It took a few minutes and rolling her over a couple times but it was soon done, with his eyes seeing nothing they hadn't before.
Though he doubted his wrists would forget the smooth feel of her sides they'd felt when pulling her shirt on. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over the same area, just to smooth the fabric down, and by the time he had finished he had swallowed enough saliva to drown a puppy.
His fingers were already twitching and he hadn't even started on her legs.
Those legs...
He was doomed.
No he wasn't. He shook his head and picked up the panties. They were a pale, faded pink, almost white. He'd picked them because they seemed comfortable and obviously they were favoured to be worn down so, and they would be easier to put on her.
Not because he thought she'd look utterly fuckable in them, of course not.
He knelt at the side of the bed and slipped one foot, the the other through the pink underwear. His fingers sang to him of her soft sleek beautiful skin as he rearranged her legs with averted eyes. The towel was still covering her but that would change as he slowly slid the garment closer into place. Fingers mourned their loss but his wrists rejoiced once more at the warm flushed feel of her.
It took a little effort to get them over her knees, and he had to pull her a little further off the bed. His breathing grew heavier, from the exertion, of course not anything else. He was sliding them up her thighs when she shifted in her sleep and brushed her knee against his face. He froze, cheek against her skin, and she sighed softly before returning to her steady breaths.
Bliss.
His hands slid her panties up as far as they could without moving her, but he stayed still, absolutely frozen by the feel of her thigh against his cheek. He brushed along her the tiniest movement, nose and upper cheek sliding down and forward every so slightly, and he sighed out his caught breath in a long pant.
The sudden warm breath against her damp thigh made her squirm once more, lifting her leg over his shoulder and pushing his head to face straight towards her core. Somehow he kept his eyes closed.
If he thought it was bliss before, this was heaven and hell. Still, part of him realised this made it easier to move her underwear into place and before he knew it, a small lift and a slide and his job was pretty much done.
Still he had his cheek against her.
It was better than he had ever imagined it. He tried to lift her a little further back onto the bed without moving away from her thigh, a half hearted attempt if ever there was one, but all it did was make her sigh and squirm a little and move her thigh even more against him, her skin now touching the corner of his mouth.
Later he decided it was that and the sigh that made him slip.
Eyes still closed, he pressed what elsewhere might have been a chaste kiss against her smooth skin. His hands slid down to cup her hips and slowly stroke up and down over skin and soft cotton.
She sighed again and he placed another kiss against her, just barely overlapping the first as it began a trail up. Again and again he kissed her there, slowly moving up. Each movement brought his shaved cheek smoothly over her skin, hands now echoing the movement on the outside of her thighs, slowly moving up.
Then the trail came to an abrupt end. He came to a stop as his nose found soft resistance as her thigh ended. It seemed somehow impossible but her long legs were indeed finite. She shivered as his breath tickled her there, and he knew what was going to happen without deciding it.
His tongue slid out between his lips without permission and suddenly ran up over the little crease between thigh and fabric. They both shivered.
His hands were on her hips now, with both her knees over his shoulders. He could feel the warm damp towel brush over his head as he slowly lapped at that little spot over and over again. His neglected cheek brushed against warm fabric when she squirmed once more, and this time he did not fight it. He lent into the warmth and softly rubbed his now luckiest cheek against her core, feeling it grow warmer.
He didn't swallow this time.
Turning his head finally towards the middle, he let his tongue loll out and lap wetly against her now fragrant panties.
He wasn't sure who groaned louder, though both were quiet.
The pale fabric soaked through instantly, and had his eyes been open he would have seen the perfect outline of her slowly opening pussy.
But he did not open his eyes. He lapped and licked and kissed her through the wet fabric until she was tilting up towards his mouth with every touch, every wet languid stroke.
Something in the small sounds she made shifted into outright moaning and he shifted with it. His kisses now wrapped around her and suckled against her, drawing out louder moans. His licks grew faster, his laps grew harder and everything was more insistent.
The only sounds were the slight shifting of fabric, deepening breathing, small wet noises and now less quiet moans brought forth with every movement of his mouth against her. His pace increased again, slowing every so often to catch his breath and to better tease and better taste her.
Oh how he wanted this to last, but more than that he wanted her to come undone against his lips and on his tongue.
He rocked his face against her now and hummed his moans into her, sending the vibrations rippling through her and drawing out still more beautiful sounds from this sleeping goddess.
He worshipped her there between her thighs as time flew by unheeded until finally, finally, she came with a choked gasp and a caught breath and a quiet rush of heat he would never forget.
He slowed but kept his mouth against her through every shudder and shiver, moving his tongue and lips slowly to coax every last wonderful sound and every last ounce of pleasure from her.
Then she eventually stilled, so he drew back with one long last lap and one long last kiss, resting his cheek against her thigh and panting over her sodden pink underwear.
Eyes still closed, he leaned forward against the bed and her thigh; catching his breath and relaxing. Her skin was flushed and soft and warm against him, the air fragrant with the scent of her pleasure, and the carpet beneath him thick enough to sleep on. So he fell asleep still kneeling there before his beautiful goddess.