Here you are, my lovelies. The past few months have been utterly horrid. Nothing bad really happened, but the summer months always leave me drained of energy, enthusiasm, creativity, and just about anything else in life that is positive. Now that Fall is once again upon us, I have my fingers crossed that I can be much more productive! This month is rather inspirational, what with all the beautiful skulls, skeletons, tombstones, and other delightfully creepy décor floating about.
Longer chapter next time. I promise. Now, on with the lemons!
"My, my, aren't we the bold one! I dare say, that almost sounds like a challenge," Undertaker drawled in a low, throaty voice.
Grell smiled wickedly as the mortician crept over his body. He sucked in his breath when he felt the obvious lump raking across his flat stomach, brushing over the expanse of his chest.
With a knee planted on each side of his shoulders, Undertaker grasped both of Grell's hands and pinned them above his head. He bent over and whispered into Grell's ear, "I hope that you are up to it."
Grell, fully acknowledging the stiffening bit of flesh resting on his chin, widened his mouth and licked at the bulge offered to him. He reached around, clutching at the rounded cheeks above him, and squeezed brutally.
"I know exactly what I'm doing, you bounder!"
Grell's right hand slithered up and released the buttons withholding Undertaker's length. He growled provocatively as the hardened skin spilled forth, and laid its bounty across his face. He kissed the looser bits that met his lips first, then greedily took the thickened shaft into his mouth.
The Undertaker gasped with pleasure, then eeked out, "Watch those teeth, my sweet thing."
Even with the member still in his possession, Grell chuckled. He released it, then mused, "Don't worry, love. As I said, I know exactly what I'm doing."
Undertaker adjusted his position, pinning Grell's wrists above his head with one hand and leaning over his face, so that he could enter the dangerous mouth with more ease. Grell relaxed his throat muscles, gagging only slightly as the hardness made its way farther in. He licked and sucked as Undertaker moved in and out, his breath quickening and pleasurable groans escaping his lips. Grell squirmed a bit, his own nether region becoming increasingly agitated at its neglect. He longed to at least reach down and give it a squeeze to tide him over, but Undertaker's grip was too strong.
The mortician emitted the same deep, lustful laugh he had given Grell the night before, and remarked, "What is it, my dear? Did you need something?"
He withdrew just for a moment. Grell drew a breath to speak, but was silenced by the member filling his mouth. Undertaker gave a few more quick thrusts, and then fell beside Grell on his back, chuckling wickedly.
"I suppose that was rather ungentlemanly of me, wasn't it?" he quipped, all the while slithering out of his trousers completely.
Grell, with mock annoyance, huffed, "Ungentlemanly? That was downright vicious, you monster!"
The red-haired shinigami shifted, covering Undertaker's body with his own. First, he crushed his lips to Undertaker's, snaking his tongue through to wrap around the other. Undertaker's arousal pressed lewdly against Grell's own, and the mortician clutched his backside and grinded against him. The Undertaker's long, black fingernails quickly hooked into Grell's feminine undergarments and scooted them down, before returning to the now naked flesh and caressing it reverently.
Grell brought himself out of the kiss, then moved his mouth down to the Undertaker's neatly scarred chest. It was then that he noticed something that he had overlooked in the previous night's rendezvous in darkness. Each of Undertaker's nipples sported silver rings, accented with tiny skull-shaped beads, not unlike those that adorned the chain of Grell's glasses. The younger reaper's menacing grin widened before clamping down on one pink bud and suckling, flipping the accoutrement with his tongue.
After awhile, with no warning, Grell released it, then quickly flipped his position, so that he could once again feast on the rigid organ he was growing increasingly fond of. He backed his own pelvis up towards Undertaker's chin. Reading Grell's mind, the mortician drew the hardness into his mouth, pushing up until its entire length was enveloped. In response, Grell moved his head down, and proceeded to coat the appendage with as much wetness as he could, in anticipation of his next move. Finishing with a long, drawn-out suck, Undertaker released Grell's length and licked back to his entrance. Grell shivered, then gasped when he felt a claw begin to press its way in. He took his mouth from Undertaker's arousal, but kept a hand gripped around it. He whimpered, gritting his teeth anxiously.
Undertaker patted his backside reassuringly with his free hand, and commented, "No fears, sweet Grell. I, too, know what I am doing."
The finger pushed in further, and true to his word, the long nail didn't scratch at Grell's inside skin. He moaned loudly when another finger was inserted, and could not help but push back against the digits as Undertaker spread them apart slightly, scissoring at the opening for accommodation.
"Alright, that is it! I can't bear this any longer!" Grell cried, escaping from the invading fingers. He spun himself around until he sat on Undertaker's lap. Grasping the funeral director's member, Grell guided it towards his ready entrance. In one quick downward thrust, he took it all into himself, crying with delight when his secret spot of pleasure was tapped.
He rode up and down on the rigid staff, and stared directly into the Undertaker's beautiful eyes. They were nearly glowing, and Grell could feel the returning gaze pierced him even more deeply than the physical penetration they both were engaged in. Undertaker's lips were curled upward, as always, but in a more subdued, concentrated manner. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and grasped Grell's aching maleness and, with a grip so tight that it was almost painful, began working the flesh up and down in time with Grell's own motions.
The red-haired shinigami was mesmerized. Those yellow-green eyes bore into his like a drill, causing but a moment of apprehension, before a wave of serene clarity overcame him. Grell knew then that he would do anything for this man, even if he were not being completely ravished by him. He forgot his surroundings, and for a moment, even his own name. He knew only the Undertaker.
The combination of physical passion and mental bewitchment were too much for Grell to bear. He impaled himself with one last plunge, crying out in loud ecstasy as his seed erupted, coating Undertaker's fingers and abdomen. He paused for a moment, finally able to close his eyes and catch his breath.
Undertaker emitted that throaty, lustful chuckle that Grell remembered from their previous engagement. He shifted, while still inside of the quivering redhead, and rested his back against the dark headboard. Grabbing one of Grell's braids, he yanked him foreword, catching his gasping lips in a deep kiss, and proceeded to thrust up with alarming intensity. Grell wrapped his arms around the mortician's neck, holding on for dear life. Just when he felt his body could stand no more, Undertaker moaned into his mouth, his own release having caught up with him.
Grell, still shaking with pleasure, slid from his mount and collapsed beside him. He dared to look up at Undertaker, almost relieved that the silver mane, wet with perspiration, had come loose from the hair comb and fallen back over his eyes. His mind was swimming, and was having difficulty coming up for air.
"What did you do to me?" he uttered breathlessly.
Undertaker cocked his head, and with a wry grin replied, "I defiled you, as requested, m'dear."
Grell laughed softly and said, "Of course you did, love. And quite a desecration it was! But, what I mean is, your eyes. . ."
"Ah. That. It is one of the benefits of being a shinigami who is older than dirt. It is also why I was so successful at collecting souls for so long, and why I normally leave my eyes covered. When a mortal looks into them at just the right moment, they feel the need to willingly offer up to me what it is natural for a reaper to take. I should have been more careful, I suppose, but I never thought it would affect you. Are you alright?" he asked tenderly, squeezing Grell's limp hand.
"I don't think I've ever been better, actually. A girl could get used to this sort of attention."
Undertaker giggled heartily and rose to clean the remnants of Grell's issue from his belly. Grell watched him sleepily, drinking in the sight of the elder shinigami's lithe, naked figure. When he returned, he slid under the satin covers and yawned. Grell repeated the yawn, and placed his glasses on his nightstand. He lay his head on Undertaker's chest, and traced a scar with a red fingernail.
"When is the last time you slept in a real bed?" he wondered out loud.
"To tell you the truth, I honestly can't remember. So it has been quite awhile."
"Then you can stay here in mine for as long as we can get away with it," Grell answered, before slipping into sweet darkness.
Some hours later, Grell was roused by the sound of someone knocking at his door. He groaned, and delicately unwound himself from the still-snoring Undertaker's embrace. He put on his glasses, grabbed the discarded dressing gown, and covered his nakedness before tiptoeing over to see who was disturbing him.
Expecting to see William's cold visage on the other side, Grell was quite shocked when he saw a mop of blond hair and bright, worried eyes.
"Ronald! Er, how are you? Will said you weren't feeling well," Grell stammered.
Ronald Knox gave a sigh of relief, and said, "I'm fine, Senpai. Just needed to sleep it off. I was more worried about you! What happened after that loony bastard ran off with you? William didn't say much, only that you were home and alive."
Grell sighed, and twirled the end of one of his braids.
"It's a long story."
Ronald smiled sympathetically, and pulled Grell into a hug.
"That's fine. Just so you're safe. I do worry about you, ya silly git. That mission was a lot more than either of us had bargained for, and . . . Christ on a bloody crutch, why is that horrible man lying naked in your bed?"
Grell winced, realizing that Ronald had looked over his shoulder. He pulled away, and followed his colleague's horrified gaze. Undertaker, for all appearances, was sleeping peacefully, with one leg wrapped around the crimson bedcovers. Of course, that leg happened to be completely exposed, all the way to its pallid hip.
Quickly jumping into a defensive stature, Grell cried, "I told you it was a long story! Just please, whatever you do, keep your mouth shut about what happened aboard that ship! Give me a chance to explain, I beg you!"
Ronald, obviously flustered at both the distraught redhead before him and the sinister apostate he was protecting, threw up his hands and staggered into the hall. Grell fought back frightful tears, deviating between watching Ronald's back and keeping an eye on his prostrate lover. He held his breath when Ronald sighed and turned around.
"Alright, Senpai. I'm all ears."
Grell squealed delightfully, "Thank you so much, you dear, sweet boy! Just let me duck in and get dressed, first. I owe Will a report, anyway, so can you hang on a minute and walk over to the office with me? I'll positively sing for you along the way!"
Without waiting for Ronald's awkward response, Grell hopped back into his room and slammed the door. He breathlessly ran to his bed and leapt onto it, not surprised in the least when Undertaker rolled over and smiled up at him.
"You were awake the whole time, weren't you, you twit? Well?" Grell growled playfully.
"Well, what?" Undertaker snickered.
"Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do to keep your arse out of the fire? By any chance did you write that report last night?"
Undertaker nodded and said, "As a matter of fact, I did. It's on the nightstand. You may want to alter it a bit, to make it sound more like yourself, but I came up with something not too implausible that might keep dear William from questioning our story. Now, about the boy. . ."
"You leave him to me. For some reason I'll never know, he actually seems to respect me. Besides that, he's young and corruptible. I'll work my magic on him, don't worry!" Grell replied.
Undertaker leaned forward and whispered softly into Grell's ear, "Hmm. Just don't corrupt him too much, or I might get jealous, m'dear."
Grell squealed with delight, and answered, "No need to worry about that, love. I don't think that I'm his kind of woman. He's always chatting up the horrifyingly 'normal' girls in the office."
"Good. Though, in all my years, I've never met a shinigami who wasn't at least a little bent, if you know what I mean."
"Ha! Perhaps you're right. Will may be the exception, however. I've never seen him bat an eye towards anyone of either gender. Irritation is the only emotion I've seen him express since we were kids," Grell mused while hurriedly throwing on his work clothes.
Undertaker broke into a fit of giggles and cried, "He does seem to have a pole wedged up there pretty far, doesn't he?"
"Mmhmm. It's been there for as long as I've known him. I think he likes it."
Grell pulled his red coat sleeves over his arms and picked up the neatly written document lying on his nightstand. He then squatted down at the bedside, and placed a gloved hand on Undertaker's cheek. The glimmer of green peeking through his silver bangs caused Grell's heart to jump. He didn't want to leave, but there was nothing to be done about it. He managed a small smile.
Undertaker said, "Come and find me in the gardens when you can. There are still plans to be made, after all."
Suddenly apprehensive, Grell stammered, "You promise you'll be in the gardens? If you leave me here, I couldn't bear it. I simply couldn't!"
With a sigh, Undertaker sat up, and without saying a word, removed the long strand of black beads from around his neck. Placing them over Grell's head, he arranged them in the double loop as he wore them himself. He kissed the redhead on the cheek, and then on his trembling lips.
"I promise. I will trust you with those, as I've worn them for for years longer than I care to count. I hope that you can trust me, as well," the mortician breathed reassuringly.
Grell wiped at a tear that threatened to spill from his eye and nodded, "I do trust you."
"Good! Now, you'd best run along before young Mister Knox thinks I've murdered you."
Grell hurried from the room, knowing that if he delayed any longer that he might not be able to tear himself away from the Undertaker's side. He found Ronald pacing the hall, nervously running his fingers through his blond and black mop. The boy relaxed a bit when he noticed Grell, but still seemed agitated.
"Shall we?" Grell asked nonchalantly, clutching the report in one hand and twirling the precious beads with the other.
