Disclaimer: They're mine! They're all mi…nevermind. ^^; I don't own anyone…I don't even own my own muses…T_T

Warning: Mmm, yaoi. This would be the part where the lemon-y goodness comes in…not really a lemon…more of a hard lime, at best. ^^; I'm no good at writing lemons. T-T

Chapter 4

"Anou…Crawford-san? …Boku…"

"You're hungry."

The boy nodded shyly, "Hai. I haven't had anything to eat since…I don't know. "

"Well, this is to be expected." Crawford sat primly on the bed, motioning for Omi to do the same, "Sit." He frowned at the boy's reluctance, "If you don't sit, you don't eat. You have to learn; now is a good a time as any."

The boy sat tentatively next to Crawford, still unsure of being so close to an enemy, "Ok…now what?"

Crawford sighed, "I thought you were supposed to be that smart one?" He placed a hand on Omi's shoulder, turning the boy towards him, "You have fangs now, elongated teeth used to puncture flesh." He tilted his head to the side, revealing the large, pulsing vein in his neck, "Do so. Gently."

Omi leaned close and let his hunger take over. Small fangs dug into flesh, bringing forth the warm flow that his body craved. Blood flowed thick and hot over his lips, and he swallowed convulsively. It was salty-sweet and metallic like Schuldich had been, but better; darker, more tainted. It was darkly sweet, like nothing he had tasted before, and only served to fuel his hunger.

Blood sang through Crawford's body, bringing about a well-known feeling that he wasn't quite sure he wanted to squash. He pulled the unresisting boy into his lap, digging his own fangs into tender skin. Blood flowed over his lips in a rush of warmth, and he drank expertly from the offered fount.

Omi gasped softly as his neck was once again ripped into, but refused to relinquish his beautiful meal. He wrapped one arm across Crawford's back and the other reaching up to entwine pale fingers in jet-black hair; never had he felt so…so… He moved his mouth, leaving little nips and bites along Crawford's neck, providing enough distraction from his own neck to press a wet kiss to the man's lips.

Less than surprised, Crawford reciprocated the kiss, pulling into a straddle over his lap. =As is should be…= whispered the daemon voice within him. =Take him now, he's yours.=

"Yes, as it should be…after the most intimate sharing…" his hands slid to Omi's hips, pulling the boy down to grind against his mounting arousal.

Omi whimpered at the contact, lost in a barrage of new sensations and feelings. Where before had only been thoughts and assumptions now flourished touches, caresses, wonderful sensations that required his attention. He pushed down into Crawford's lap, rocking feverantly towards a quick climax.

The door banged open. "Crawford!" They were separated, though not by their own wills. "You whore! He's mine!"

Crawford was nonplussed. Omi was furious; "Who's yours? I know I certainly am not. And Crawford? You can have him. I only needed a drink."

Nagi's blood boiled, "You call almost having sex 'just a drink'? Crawford…You drank from him, too, didn't you? You said...you said you would only ever do that with me…" he stood next to the bed, towering over the older man.

"Naoe Nagi this is no longer any of your business. You wanted to leave me, fine. You wanted to make Tsukiyono one of us, fine. You have gotten both of these things; I'm done with you now. I don't want to see you again unless I call for you." He placed a hand on Omi's bare thigh, "What I do and what Tsukiyono does is none of your concern. Leave now, and take your things from my room. Bother Schuldich or something. If I see your face for one more second, I may have to test your immortality."

Nagi knew when Crawford was serious, and when he should give up for the time being. He left on silent feet, slamming the door behind him.

Crawford sighed, adjusting his glasses, "That boy…for thousands of years… He's spoiled."

Omi huddled on the corner of the bed, shaking like a frightened kitten. One hand was at his lips, the other in his lap trying to hide his body's natural reaction to the previous encounter, "Crawford-san…Doushite boku…kiisu shite…"

The dark haired man stood, smirking, "If you will recall correctly, it was you who initated it."

"Datte yo! You were going to…going to…"

"Have sex with you? Most likely. The taking of blood is a rather erotic experience, especially when shared both ways. Don't feel special." He looked at his watch, frowning a bit, "Schuldich should be home soon. When he arrives, he and Nagi will begin your training."

Blue eyes narrowed, "Nagi? Why him? Why not Schuu--" he remembered Nagi's nickname for the redhead, "Why not Schu? Or you? Why can't you do it?"

"Because in truth, neither Schuldich or I have any idea of how to train this. I have trained a few telekinetics, including Nagi, but I've never seen proof of real pyrokinesis before you. Nagi's Gift is closest to yours, so he will have to train you. Schuldich will mostly be there to make sure you don't kill each other."

Omi sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, "I don't like this. Do I really belong to someone? …And where am I supposed to sleep?"

"I'm going to have one of the rooms close to mine made up. You belong to no one, but you obey only me. I will have Farfarello bring you some of Nagi's larger clothes; I'm sure you don't want to wear what you were in before."

"Hai. Arigatou," The thought of wearing Nagi's clothes did not sit well with him, but it was a bit better than squeezing into the tight clothes Youji had put him into again. "What about a shower? I feel dirty."

"Hnn. There is a bathroom down the hall to the left, you may use that. I'll have Farfarello leave the clothes outside the door," he turned, leaving Omi to his own vices.

Omi straightened his legs, stretching and yawning like a cat. He hadn't even seen water in three days; the prospect of a hot shower was looking better and better. He slid off the bed and poked his head cautiously out the door. Seeing no one, Omi slipped down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him.

The bathroom was…enormous. It was western style, with marble floors and several articles of bathroom furniture that he'd never seen before. Omi shed his boxers and turned on the shower; one thing he knew would be safe. He stepped into the hot stream and closed the door, surrounding himself with glass and water. **Saa…ii yo, ii yo…**He turned his face up to the water, letting it splatter over his cheeks and lips. So strange…everything was happening so fast. Omi leaned against the warm glass, closing his eyes. One hand trailed lazily over his body, across his stomach and lower. He touched himself lightly, replaying in his mind the sharing of blood, then the kiss. However, his mind differed from reality, as in his mind he allowed Crawford to touch him and tease him and to take him, all the while stroking his own trembling erection under the hot stream of the shower.

Omi's breath sped up into little pants, imagining a hand now his own to be touching him. He pumped himself in smooth, even strokes, biting his lower lip at the sensation. One sharp fang cut into his lip, once again spilling blood and adding to his arousal. Well then this was familiar; the feel of his own hand stroking repeatedly back and forth over his aching arousal as thoughts of another man filled his mind. He worked himself to a quick, dissatisfying climax, then watched the evidence of his lust drip off his hand and swirl down the shower drain. **Mou…Why Crawford? Of all the billions of people in the world, why must I fanti--"

"Good show."

Omi's eyes went wide and he moved to cover himself. He cleared a small spot in the fogged glass and peered out, "Dare?"

Only feet away from the enclosed glass shower stood the man whom Omi feared most in the world. "Crawford sent me to bring you clothes. If he'd told me there would be a free show I might have been here sooner."

"Fa…Farfarello…"

"Don't worry, his Highness told me not to touch you. I'm just bringing clothes. Though the little show was certainly worth my trouble." The silver haired man set a bundle of clothing next to a fluffy-looking towel on the floor. "But tell me one thing before I leave. Are you Christian?"

Omi could feel his cheeks burning. Wasn't it Schuldich who was supposed to be the slut with sex always on his mind? And how could this man who was supposed to be insane stand there so calmly staring at Omi's naked body whilst inquiring about the boy's religious preferences?? "Shintou, I think. Though assassins like me have no place in having religion. IF there is a Hell, that's where I'll be going."

"Not true. You're still clean; you don't enjoy killing. Not yet anyway. You will. We all do. Then you will be dirty. It's too bad though, you're not being Christian. You would have been fun to break." With that he was gone, as quickly and silently as he had come.

Omi reached a trembling hand for a small bottle of shampoo on a shelf in back of the shower. Quickly he cleaned himself, scrubbing harshly at pale skin in attempts of removing the sudden feeling of embedded filth. He scrubbed 'til his skin was pink and sure, but still the dirt remained, not unlike the blood that coated his hands after each and every mission. No matter how long and hard he scrubbed, the blood and dirt would never be removed.

Laa~ Hope you guys like this…I have up to chapter 8 written….but this is all I have typed. ^^; Do you hate me a lot now? Tell me so. Maybe it'll get me off my lazy arse and make my type up more. ^^;