"I'm tired of playing with you!" Shirou announced, her soft, sweet voice now laced with deadly venom, her stinging tone enough to send excited little chills down Kuro's spine.

He had always enjoyed their little games, their personal wars that he often initiated, at times with a mere look, at times, with the simple bait of spoken word. No matter his weapon of choice, he always drew Shirou into his carefully constructed webs, taunting her with all the suave of a polished gentleman at first, and as their game drew on, always growing more intense, blooming and burning into white hot rage, and deadly accurate attacks on either side, his control was also burned away into ash, revealing a side of him that he openly embraced. Some called it "insanity", but he preferred to think of it as "passion".

With a soft whistle through pursed lips, Kuro tilted his head slowly to the side, his movements resembling that of an owl's as he drank in the image of the furious, full-bodied female before him, her peachy skin glistening with sweat from their previous excursions. He took the greatest delight in pushing her over the edge whenever the opportunity presented itself; she was truly beautiful, he believed, when consumed with rage. Deep orange optics danced with mirth in the flicker of starlight that spun over their heads, the complicated constellations just barely illuminating the cocky smirk that settled on his lips as he sat comfortably in the shadows. The observatory was silent save for the labored breaths of his panting partner.

"Are you really, now?" Kuro cooed, biting back the light-hearted peals of laughter that began to bubble forth from the depths of his belly. Shifting his weight to the side, the man pushed off the marble pillar he had used for support while he caught his breath after their battle, and sauntered toward the seductive vixen with the grace of a cat. "Shirou, you know as well as I that out of all my invitations, not a single one has been declined." he pressed on, noting that the Queen began to retreat as he tried to close in.

They were the only players on the board, and Shirou had no more defences to counter his attacks. He, on the other hand, still wielded his lance, though he didn't think it would be of any use to him now that the game was practically his. With a heavy thud, the weighty weapon dropped to the floor, stepped over and forgotten as the tan-skinned King cornered his helpless victim against a wall; his palm pressing flat against the smooth surface to prevent her escape.

"Checkmate." came the hushed whisper as he leaned in, their mouths just inches apart.