Author's Note: What took so long? Editing. Taming this chapter so it suits theno-NC-17 rule. Goddammit.

Thequietgenius: Hey, Romero was the one who said "May I, in my great kindness, extend a special hand of charity to you and retrieve you as my own?" Sounds like a come-on, to me. XD He's less "affectionate," and more "I'm convincing you that I'm a nice guy," actually...

Psychodog: Wait, that was you? Dammit, he's been blaming that on me for all this time, and it was you! -quickly placatesthe angry Ghost!Albel-

Pyroclastic Flow: No, I really don't like Fayt, though I'm not sure why, myself...

FoxFury: Smarter than a slow website! More powerful than a pack of angry flamers! Able to post two chapters in 48 hours! It's - SUPERWRITERWOMAN! Maybe I'll get a cape, too? Billow, billow, swish!

Iconoclastic Orthodoxy: Well, considering what had just happened to him, he probably had a little mental meltdown . . . and then a temper tantrum . . . -sweatdrop- But hey, I do love constructive criticism. -nod- And yes, Chapter Five was a bit difficult to start . . . truth be told, I'm just working on filler now - it's too early in the story to bring in the 'major conflict' . . .

Warnings: yaoi (A PG-13 at best bath scene, which was my way of getting around putting Albel in bondage...)

Pairing: Romero and Albel

Afterlife

LeFox

Chapter Six: Bathtime

---

Albel sat by the window, gazing out at . . . nothing. Romero's 'kingdom' seemed to be little more than a black abyss, caught forever in a horrific storm. Between the brilliant flashes of lightning, Albel could see a hundred or so of Romero's indistinguishable servants, milling around without any apparent purpose. Lost souls, all of them. What purpose did they serve, exactly? The day Albel had fought Romero, these servants - he remembered with a sort of chill that these particular servants were once his own men - had served as a small distraction, or perhaps Romero really had believed Albel would prove to be no match for them . . .

He glanced over at the demon, who was staring right back at him.

"And what," Albel asked slowly, "Do you find so fascinating about me?"

Romero smirked, his pale lips turning up seductively. He didn't respond, other than to calmly and slowly lift a glass of red wine to Albel before taking a sip. The swordsman couldn't help staring at him now. It was strange, really, how magnetic the simple movement was . . . the clear glass rested lightly on the demon's lips; the dark red liquid flowing into his mouth; the way the glass rested in his hand; the languorous motion of it all . . . Albel was almost mesmerized. The room was lit with a million candles, for some reason . . . and it didn't seem as though Romero had lit them. In fact, the room had been perfectly prepared from the moment they had returned from the funeral . . . and Romero seemed perfectly prepared, as well.

He had changed into his long black robe, and was lounging against the dark bedsheets rather like a model. The combined darkness of the robe and sheets contrasted against his pale skin, making it seem almost as if he were glowing . . . A perfect marble statue, fitted perfectly with burning eyes, silk lips, and fingernails of glass. His robe fell loosely around him, only just barely hanging off his shoulders. A thin slice of his white leg was visible through the robe, making its way to the inside of Romero's thigh. The demon's silvery hair spilled against the pillows, catching the candlelight. There was something statuesque about Romero's posture, and yet, he seemed so . . . soft. Albel found himself thinking in terms similar to those he had found to describe Romero at the window . . . strong and powerful, yet gentle and almost fragile, all at once. And the combined result was irresistible.

"...And what," Romero asked lightly, still smirking, "Do you find so fascinating about me?" He rose from the bed, seeming to float upward rather than push off of it. Albel swallowed.

"You never answered my question, you fool," he said unconvincingly, doing his best not to stare. Romero shook his head.

"Albel Nox, you're a horrible liar . . . " he purred, walking slowly in his direction. Albel felt his mouth go dry as he came closer. His heart raced, pounding in his ears. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the demon's, afraid to let them wander anywhere else.

Romero casually let the wine glass slip from his hand, ignoring the way the glass shattered on the tiled floor. He stepped over the shards carefully, deliberately, never once removing his eyes from Albel's. This was the night, he decided. This was the night he would really let Albel know just who was the master . . . and who was the slave. He could see a fine, shimmering layer of sweat on the man's skin, and Albel was biting his lower lip in concentration . . . ah, yes. He was winning already. Albel was still a bit shaken from the excursion to his burial, of course - Romero planned to use this to his advantage. As he drew even closer, he could see Albel's eyes widening.

"Albel . . . " he whispered, his face only centimeters away from Albel's. " . . . Come with me."

As if he were a puppet on a string, the man obeyed. He had a rather dazed, dreamlike expression on his face, almost as if he had been hypnotized. ". . . Where are we going?"

"To take a little bath," Romero replied smoothly, opening a door and bowing Albel inside.

Albel gazed around in shock. Romero's bath was truly fit for a king. . . sculpted walls of black marble unfolded around a recessed tub. The tub itself seemed to be carved from the same solid block of marble, and was large enough to easily hold several men; deep enough to swim in. Several unusually bright candles floated on small dishes, lending an almost magical feel to the room. Aside from the floating candles, there was no light. A delicate but overpowering scent filled the room; drifting from either the candles, or the water itself.

"You like it," the demon murmured, his lips against Albel's ear. The man nodded, stunned. This was. . . incredible! Not even the king of Airyglyph had anything this grand. . .

Without waiting for Albel to join him, Romero removed his robe and waded into the tub. Albel was beginning to wonder when the demon had become that damn appealing - he'd been attractive all along, of course, but only now was it becoming impossible to avert his eyes. Something about this room, something about the atmosphere here. . . whatever it was, he couldn't fight it. He had barely gotten all of his clothing off before he stepped into the warm, fragrant water.

Romero smiled indulgently, admiring Albel from his place in the corner of the tub. There was something about this sort of ambiance that just heightened the senses, and made everything seem so much more dramatic. Albel's long, perfectly shaped legs seemed to carry him weightlessly through the water; disregarding that the rest of him was exquisite, as well. Not even the metal claw of an arm was enough to detract from his otherwise perfect body. The demon licked his lips slowly, raising a hand to beckon the man to come closer. Albel did so without hesitation, his eyes glazed with lust - yes, this was the perfect sort of aura; it was enough to bring any man to madness. And then again, Romero did have that effect on most mortals.

Albel sat in Romero's lap, looking perfectly submissive. . . but looks could be deceiving. He leaned forward quickly, sealing the demon's lips in a firm and rather demanding kiss. Romero was more than happy to oblige. He bit Albel's tongue aggressively, sighing deeply at the taste of blood. As the warm, sharp liquid flowed into his mouth, he allowed his hand to rest on the side of the man's neck, feeling the blood there. Albel licked the demon's lips, then drew back and smiled at their new color.

"Red suits you," he commented, stroking Romero's hair with a wet hand. The demon nodded absently, lifting him just a bit. He kissed Albel's neck, sucking indelicately at the hollow of his throat. When he received very little reaction from the man - nothing more than an aroused gasp, he glared up at him, looking quite insulted. "It takes a bit of skill, you know," Albel shrugged. "I'm not easy to impress." He rested his hands on Romero's thighs. "Though... I have to say... you're doing a remarkable job..."

Albel grinned, pushing away. He swam backwards teasingly, slipping under the water. Romero smirked.

"You know perfectly well that you can't hide from me..." he said, smiling as he followed the man beneath the surface. Albel was waiting, kneeling on the bottom of the tub. His raven hair drifted around him, much like a lovely black backdrop for a mannequin. Smirking, Romero lifted him effortlessly. "You're playful, aren't you?" he asked hoarsely, seating the man on the edge of the tub and climbing up after him. He leaned over the man, frowning studiously. "I'm not in the mood to play."

"Neither am I," Albel said lightly, throwing one leg over Romero's shoulder.

Author's Note: (-violently kicking and screaming Ch. 4-Albel-Style, ranting about the NC-17 policy-) Makes this chapter veeeeeerry boring, it does... ... Let's take a vote.

Which of these is going to happen first?

1. LeFox will completely disregard the NC-17 policy, and therefore get banned from the site.

2. LeFox will go insane from keeping the story rated R at the very least. (Can I say "R" stands for "Romero?" I think that rating would be manageable...)

3. LeFox will somehow get around the fact that her computer blocks AFFnet.

4. LeFox will have a mental meltdown and raid FFnetdestroying everyone and everything in sight.

5. The readers will get bored with the fic and leave.