Disclaimer: If I owned Star Ocean, Quantestorie would have a bigger part (MUCH bigger. Love that guy.), Gonnella would appear without makeup at least once, Evia would put Aqua up for adoption, Lias would kill something (preferably Sophia. Or Aqua.) with his giant hammer, Sophia's head would explode, Maria would move faster, Dion wouldn't die, Luther wouldn't be the bad guy, Fayt would probably die, Albel would wear his P3 or P4 outfits at all times, and Romero would abduct Albel for a hot makeout scene halfway through the game. ...So, no, I don't own it.

Author's Note: I'm sick... T-T -snifflecough- -blows nose-

Psychodog: Hey, Psychodog? YOU'RE AWESOME. -hug- I think I have another loyal reviewer! Yay! ...Because all of my other dear loyal reviewers have vanished, leaving me all alone... T-T
Pyroclastic Flow: I know! I was looking for some RomeroxAlbel fics on here (and on the web, in general), and when I couldn't find any, I just thought, "Well, hell. I'll write one, then." Oh, and... Fangirling is always allowed. -wink-
Casse: Continue, I will. -nod-
Kodamy: Ha! Thanks! I'm glad you like it.
Raven: Thank you! I was never one for AlbelxNel, myself (mostly because I'm a diehard shounen-ai fan), but I can see how it'd be possible (unlike AlbelxFayt.). And I try to keep the characters IC, but if they slip a little, just let me know.
PhyrricVictories: Stressing me out? Naaaaah. -coughyescough-

Warnings: Mild, very brief yaoi; vampirism (yes, I choose to assume Romero has some slight vampiric tendencies. Is he a vampire? No. Does he drink blood from time to time? In this fic, yes.)

Pairing: Romero and Albel.

Afterlife

LeFox

Chapter Two: A Mask

---

It was... cold. Albel opened his eyes, blinking a little - it was dark, too.

He was lying on a remarkably comfortable bed, a bed he knew almost immediately wasn't his. A large room unfolded around him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing the vaulted ceiling, shining floor, and broad windows... it was dark outside, but Albel could hear the battering of rain on the windows. There was a figure standing before one of the windows, revealed when lightning struck just outside these windows. No one had to tell him that this was Romero, nor did anyone need to tell him that this was Romero's room... it had a regal, almost frightening feel to it, a dark sort of aura.

"You're awake," Romero turned, his odd red-orange eyes all but glowing in the shadows. "Good evening."

"Quiet, maggot," Albel snapped automatically, wondering whether or not his new 'master' would punish him for being rude. No reprimand came, however, and Romero turned back to the window.

"You should mind your tongue," he said after a moment. "It could get you into trouble. I'm not always so lenient."

Smirking, Albel went back to examining the room. "...I always expected Hell to be a bit different,"

Romero didn't turn away from the window, staring out without expression. "Fire," he said softly, "And torture."

"You did say 'It's time for you to burn in eternal despair,'" Albel reminded him sarcastically. "I have yet to see any burning. Or despair, for that matter." Romero didn't respond.

He seemed to be a breathing shadow, almost... standing there in the occasional blinding flash of light, then vanishing again into the dark when the light retreated. His profile was commanding and powerful... and yet, at the same time, he seemed gentle and almost fragile. When he spoke, his voice was airy, but controlled. The delicate whisp of light around his silvery head gave the impression that he may very well be an angel; the chilly and unchanging expression on his face let the world see that he very clearly wasn't. His hands were no longer hidden by the gloves, and revealed themselves to be rather beautiful - long, graceful fingers, each tipped with a perfect, almost glassy nail. He wore a long, rather plain black silk robe, contrasting sharply against his pale, almost grey skin. Albel couldn't help arching an eyebrow in approval - just by appearance, Romero was more of a king than that Arzei had ever been.

"...Do you want torture?" the demon asked.Albel blinked. What had they been discussing? Ah, right...

"Don't ask stupid questions, you fool," he smirked. "Of course not." Romero looked over at him, but didn't turn completely from the window. "But I don't want to serve another weakling, either."

"You're the fool, Albel Nox," he whispered, the eyes piercing into his soul. "I assure you, I'm no weakling. If you need me to prove this..." He vanished on the spot, appearing beside Albel on the bed. "I can." His hand latched onto Albel's throat tightly, just above his metal collar.

The swordsman gasped for breath, struggling against Romero's hand. The hand was like stone, however, and didn't budge. If anything, it clenched even tighter around his neck, threatening to snap it. Albel fought for breath, clawing at the being's arm, digging the metal fingers into the arm, the hand; scratching desperately with his other hand. Romero didn't so much as blink, tightening his grip on the man's throat. "Don't fight, Albel," Romero murmured. "I wouldn't ever hurt you now, you're mine..."

Finally out of air, Albel made one last furious swipe with his claw, catching the side of Romero's face. Something flew away from the face before he blacked out.

Albel found himself in, of all things, a field. Tall, incredibly green grass flowed all around him, speckled with small white flowers. They gave off a heavenly scent, surrounding him in an intoxicating warmth. The field itself was rectangular, once a bit of farmland, now cut off from the rest of the land by bands of forest on all sides. A few lone trees were scattered across the length of the field, offering a little shade. The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, no clouds in sight. It was truly a perfect spring day...

...And yet, something was wrong.

Albel recognized this field, and the memories that came along with it. He'd seen it in nightmares and memories far too many times.

This was where he and his father had sat the night before the failed Accession of the Flame ceremony, the two of them discussing the future. Albel would fight beside his father, he would be he best warrior ever... but the next day, everything fell apart. It went up in flames, just like his arm, just like his father...

He screamed, opening his eyes to reveal, once again, Romero's bedroom. But this time, he wasn't alone on the bed; Romero's arms were around him, pinning him gently against the King's chest. Aside from a half-hearted struggle, Albel didn't even bother to fight... where had that gotten him before? Romero was stronger. Romero had beaten him not once, but twice, and Albel was sick of being humiliated... He dropped his head heavily against the being's chest, sighing.

"I would never harm you," Romero was saying, untwisting the bindings in Albel's hair. "Not now, not now that you belong to me." The black-and-blond hair spilled over Albel's shoulders and arms, kinked slightly from being tied back for so long. The King of the Dead stroked it almost lovingly, sighing passionately as his hand brushed over Albel's neck, shoulder, arm... The swordsman's muscles tensed - what, exactly, was going on here? Being held was one thing. He could tolerate that. But being... touched like this, that was another matter entirely. The line was crossed when Romero began attempting to remove his shirt, however.

"Stop," Albel hissed, glaring up at the being with pure hatred. "Stop it now." Romero's eyes glittered mischievously, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"Why are you afraid, Albel...?" he asked softly, just barely above a whisper. "And what makes you think you can command me? You forget..." He ripped the shirt off completely, and leaned closer, his lips grazing Albel's. "...I'm your master now."

The red eyes widened, and Albel commanded himself to struggle. Bite the demon's lip, spit in his face, swear, kick and scream like a child, something... but nothing came. In fact, he found himself quivering in Romero's arms, his body aching and begging the being's lips to come just a bit closer... or better yet, his tongue. When neither came, Albel slipped his own tongue up, licking Romero's soft lips. Romero responded quickly and easily, nipping playfully at the man's lips and sliding a hand down Albel's side. Before the man could do anything to stop him, Romero had torn away his lower garment, leaving him quite exposed.

...Not that Albel minded.

He tipped his head back a bit more, and allowed the demon to remove the heavy metal collar around his neck. It fell to the floor with a loud crash, as Romero's mouth traced its way down to Albel's throat. "You... belong... to me," he repeated slowly, between kisses.

"Yes..." Albel replied, though everything inside him demanded that he say otherwise.

The next sensation was the most unexpected thing Albel had ever experienced in his lifetime. Romero bit his throat, licking up the blood that spilled from the wound. There was no pain at all, just an exquisite dizziness and an indescribable pleasure as, drop by drop, his blood was drained from his body. Albel moaned softly through the ecstasy, struggling to press himself closer to Romero's body. The demon drew back, his lips red, his eyes glazed, and then...

Romero left.

Albel found himself, quite suddenly, sitting alone and naked on Romero's bed. He wrapped the covers around himself, swearing loudly at himself, cursing the demon. A powerful wave of disgust washed over him, and he instantly hated himself for being so weak. He'd given in to temptation, he had wanted, more than anything... damn that Romero! He'd known all along that Albel would...

Disgusted and disappointed in himself, he collapsed into the pillows. Then, something caught his eye. At the foot of the bed, something pale clashed against the dark sheets. He sat up, reaching forward. His hand closed on the object, and he examined it carefully... then realized, with a start, that it was Romero's face, minus the eyes. It had been a mask! No wonder the face had been so unchanging, no wonder the lips had never moved... in fact, come to think of it, Romero's expression had only changed since Albel had awakened... and shortly before that, Albel had struck the demon's face.

Albel placed the mask on the pillow beside him and lied down, tucked under the silk sheets.

Author's Note: Mrow, go Romero! -waves a ROMEROxALBEL flag-