A/N: For Zeitdieb: some shameless flirting with Puppeteer. ;3

THE RATING FOR THIS CHAPTER IS MATURE, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between. Capital letters, bold style, and underline. I hope you take note of that, or you might end up reading something you don't want to read. It's perfectly possible to skip this chapter and still follow the story. =)

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

"Where is he?"

Shiro knew Faust Mansion was large, and it never looked the same… But as he passed stranger and stranger rooms, he was starting to think it might even grow additional spaces, too. He didn't remember a room full of grandfather clocks, though he would admit someone who rules time could have something like that: but how did you tell time from clock faces that were numbered up to 25? And a replica of the Sistine Chapel, what use did a demon have for that…?

Shiro did stop to look at that last one, though. They hadn't had the time to see the Sistine Chapel on their sojourn to Rome, but it sure was…

"Crumbling." His eyes roamed the walls with their fractured plaster and fading colours. "No matter how great mankind's achievements, it's all-" How had Mephisto put it…? "Frail, fluttering instants in time."

Near the centre of the ceiling was a painting he recognised, elevated into his awareness on the pedestal of fame: the Creation of Adam. Shiro knew nothing of art per se – if anything, he found it surprising how very different humans looked in Western art compared to Japanese tradition – but even he had to admit that that painting had "something". Something in that short, short distance between God's finger and Adam's; something that was invisible, intangible, yet held the mystery of life itself. The divine spark.

"The one you couldn't return to a dead body", he murmured to the hushing arches, gaze lingering on the two hands that had reached out for hundreds of years without ever touching.

Hundreds of years… Hundreds of years ago the laboratory in Wawel Castle's tower had been built, to house the experiments Mephisto had conducted in his attempts to bridge that narrow gap between two fingers. That narrow gap, so simple yet so far beyond the grasp of a human mind; all of life, all of creation, all that unimaginable power, compressed and crackling in those few centimetres of nothingness…

"And jilt the Devil that would do the work of God." It was probably a good thing that Mephisto hadn't succeeded. "You've got enough toys as it is", he concluded, lowering his eyes and thoughts from the ceiling. "Just where are you, you old goat?"

Shiro's pace grew more and more impatient. He should be able to dowse for Mephisto's presence; but, like the rooms of the mansion, it seemed to constantly change location. Really, he could understand Belial's frustration. Working in a place like this must be-

The moment he saw it, he knew it was the right way. He didn't bother questioning how he knew that. The corridor dug straight into the wall, and there was nothing in it save two doors at the far end. Not a single painting or piece of furniture - not even lamps. Shiro had to look at it twice before concluding that the corridor was some sort of spatial trick of Mephisto's: the pink-and-cream striped walls did run parallel with each other, but the corridor between them was impossibly narrow for those doors to stand side by side. Or gateways, rather: there were no doors in the arched frames, only darkness so deep it seemed to have mass and texture and-

"Life", he thought as he approached them, and slowed to a stop. He had half by half expected the blackness in the archways to reach out and pull him those last steps in; he could almost imagine it breathe.

There were many strange and otherworldly things in Faust Mansion, but these…

These things were older than ancient - or perhaps something that wasn't touched by time no matter its shearing forces. Shiro couldn't put his finger on what made him think that; perhaps it was something he felt rather than thought. The arch to his left was assembled in sections that hid their joints in fine carving; a grand, ivory masterpiece of workmanship so expertly polished that it seemed to be liquid. The right gate was an identical twin to the first save for material. That one was grizzled, from pale white to the dark blue of storm clouds, and somewhat translucent if the light fell in right. These were just the kind of fancy things Mephisto would own – and far too solemn to be part of his collections.

"As is the Sistine Chapel", Shiro concluded with a shrug, and strode ahead through the right gate.

"The library?" How disappointing. "I must've walked a stretch halfway through True Cross Town and more, and I find you in the library."

"The great library", corrected a nit-picking voice from a heavy, deep red armchair sitting in front of the unlit hearth. "The one where books can be enjoyed without disturbance from ill-mannered apes."

True, Mephisto kept his manga and his bound books separate, and the great library… was the kind of library you own if you've been collecting works since there were written works to collect. The dry smell of papyrus, paper, and vellum rested on shelves that expanded in semi-circles out from the ornately carved hearth in the wall, like ripples on water. From floor to ceiling the shelves stretched, as if they had kept growing as trees even after the wood was hewn; a forest of pillars, branching at the top into a canopy of arches that supported the ceiling on gilded arms. If Mephisto ever auctioned out the collection he had in there, he could probably increase his fortune threefold.

Shiro crossed his arms and rested them on the back of the velvet armchair, smirking down at the demon that occupied it.

"Still mad that I played you~?"

"Not at all."

"Of course not", he grinned. "What's the occasion? I know you don't like that suit."

Mephisto never wore formal clothes in his own home, let alone that black suit he'd been forced to put on after he lost their bet.

"You tell me", he replied curtly, causing Shiro to knit his brow in confusion.

"Just so you know, I don't follow one bit."

"You came 'halfway through True Cross Town and more', you said." Mephisto closed the book with a sonorous thud, but made no move to meet Shiro's eyes. "I doubt you made that effort to ask about my attire."

"Oooh, the princess is in a foul mood today~" Which was both entertaining and troublesome. "I got a few words out of Kita-san about that artefact that's causing his family so much trouble. Seems your academy is built on top of some sort of dimensional hotspot. I'm assuming you're aware of that…?"

"Of course I am."

…and that, apparently, was the extent of what he intended to say on the subject.

"Not at all mad that I played you, hm?" he teased, twirling Mephisto's hair curl around his finger and tugging it lightly. "I thought it was just pig-headed rivalry when Kita-san tried to make me flunk Knight exam, but I don't think that's all there is to it. He's after me because of my connection to you - not to the title and influence you've got, but to you. And there's got to be a reason he doesn't want you to have that artefact." A reason why Mephisto was gathering so many artefacts in Deep Keep.

The curl slipped his grip when the demon unfolded himself out of the chair. With that kind of spindly body, the only way to describe it was "unfold".

"I am aware of the Yaonarus' resent, what they shelter, and why." He didn't honour Shiro with a single glance, just laid the book down on the marquetry table by the heavy divan. With a snap of his fingers he summoned an ornate carafe that hovered in the air and poured him a glass of white wine. "Neither is anything you need concern yourself with."

Being rude is easy; anybody can do that. But to be that flippantly condescending was a finer nuance of rude, and fine nuances require skill. Mephisto's whole posture radiated superiority, right in his face, and made Shiro itch to take up the fight and bite back. However, that wasn't going to get him anywhere. You have to stroke the dog along the grain: the piqued princess would keep up his diva attitude until sufficient amends were made to appease his pride. Shiro rounded the armchair with a sigh and approached, still thoroughly, expertly ignored.

"I don't suppose a 'sorry' s'gonna cut it…?"

"Word is repaid with word, action with action", he declaimed as if talking to himself, casually sipping his wine and not even looking at him.

…and against better knowledge, Shiro's health-hazardous urge to push buttons won out in the end.

"You sure you want that, knowing where 'action' got you last time~?" His voice snaked into the demon's pointed ear as he embraced him from behind and let his hands trail up the lean chest.

"A bit of a one trick pony, are you?"

Ah. King of Time, and of space: Mephisto no longer held any wine glass, and no longer had his back to him; he faced him eye to eye, and held his wrists in a secure grip. Well. At least he had his attention now.

"What's this? Does my proximity make you edgy… Sammy~?" Crap. He wasn't going to get the truth about the Yaonaru out of him, ever. Shiro could practically see the irked-o-meter rise, and see his chances to get on Mephisto's good side diminish proportionally. Some temptations just can't be resisted.

"Play coy all you like, little lion", he dismissed him. "Do you honestly expect me – me – to fall for the same ploy twice?"

No, of course not. Mephisto was one who craved the sensational, unimpressed by mediocre performance and mundane repetition. And to beat his expectations and catch that finicky demon off guard, one had to… do something he would never expect.

Shiro rose up on the balls of his feet and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

Oh yes, something he would never expect: Shiro grinned inwardly as the conceited diva face dropped and showed undiluted astonishment instead.

"If you think that fumbling attempt at a kiss is valid payment, you're sorely mistaken", Mephisto informed, quickly gathering himself up behind an uninterested façade. "And Honda-kun's sister might want to fish for a better catch."

"That's some really poor acting skills, you know", Shiro returned with a very content smirk: how often did you get to enjoy Mephisto floundering for comeback lines? Not nearly often enough.

"And a really poor kiss that will get you nowhere."

"You sure about that…?"

Demons' tongues aren't made of silver. They aren't forked, and they have no tang of sulphur and ash. But once you develop a taste for it… White wine, sweetened by candy; a lingering touch of strong tea on sharp fangs… A thrill of danger satin soft.

Once you develop a taste for it, nothing can compare.

like a moth unto flame

The wristlock broke, as did the kiss...

little by little, he will burn you to ashes

And he wouldn't care. Aeons passed when Mephisto took off his glasses, aeons that quivered in the hungry centimetres of air between their lips; a few centimetres of nothingness, crackling with forces beyond the grasp of a human mind.

Is it worth it?

Mephisto lingered on his tongue; spicy, sweet, intoxicating… Is it worth being burnt to cinders, to taste a spark of divine pleasure?

The silence between them left with the clink of his glasses against the table, and hunger took its place. Shiro dug his fingers into Mephisto's hair, pressed his lips against his. Worth it, worth that and much more – worth every pinprick of greedy claws that dug into his skin through the shirt. That special flavour of forbidden fruit. That feeling of Mephisto's hungry lips melting against his, of warm tongue slipping against his own.

Shiro didn't know what he was doing. Instinct doesn't explain; it just acts, no questions asked. No consequences considered. No words needed, for the body knows what it wants.

The plush divan caught their fall, and for long moments Shiro merely soaked up the sight of his prey. Prey; because there and then, he knew what lions felt when the warm, panting body of a wild beast lay pinned beneath them and begged to be eaten.

"I'm feeling a bit more inclined to tell you about the Yaonaru…" Shiro barely registered words; only a vicious desire to bury his teeth in pale white skin and tear gasping moans out of that lilting voice. "But just a bit", Mephisto purred. Sinewy hands ran slowly up the thighs that straddled his hips, making the hard bulge in Shiro's trousers ache to further persuade the demon to speak.

"Demon." Somewhere in his hazy, horny mess of a brain, Reason managed to shout one word through the fog: demon. That's what Mephisto was. An expert at exploiting human desires. "What… have you done to me…?" he panted. As if knowing would help. As if there was anything that could put out the hot need pulsing through his body.

"Done~?" God, that voice; like a hot, wet tongue curling tantalizing promises around the head of his dick. "What grows in the human heart is planted by humans", Mephisto breathed raggedly, pushing himself up on his hands and slipping out of the suit jacket, like a snake shedding skin. "And nurtured by demons", he murmured a hairsbreadth from his lips; eyes of molten poison and breath of sweet wine, a hairsbreadth away, teasing, beckoning, waiting-

the flame burns… and the moth flies to it willingly

It was Shiro who leaned into the kiss, nurtured by silver-tongued words and the intoxicating thrills they promised. It was Shiro who pulled the tie from the demon's neck and fumbled with the silver buttons of his waistcoat, breath fluttering from the feeling of claws grazing his bare neck. He was a bundle of sensation without thought: heat, moisture, skin… and lust. Searing, throbbing lust, sweeter than sin, burning through flesh and reason.

"And when the fruit is ripe…" Mephisto's hands slid from his neck, traced the curve of his back, his firm buttocks; pulled him closer, possessively, forcing a throaty breath from Shiro's lips when his hard arousal pressed against another. "…we devour it~"

A wild beast… pinned down and begging to be eaten…

Is it worth it, if the fox one day bites the rabbit?

Predators' fangs left a hungry trail of hickeys on his throat, heating his blood and blurring his vision.

"Oh, it's worth it…"

Shiro bit his lip around a moan as his belt-buckle emptied with a clink and gave clawed fingers access to his throbbing cock.

"Nnnh worth it…"

He rocked his hips into the lovely motions of Mephisto's hand, clutched at bony shoulders and purple hair – oh yes, he was ripe… But not reaped.

Shiro wrenched him back down into the soft divan, breath hissing through a hungry leer.

"Yes..."

Yes, Mephisto looked good in that suit – even better when it was undone and unbuttoned. But when his chest heaved air past the fangs in the wicked grin like that…

"Oh yes…"

…when hellfire set his absinthian eyes aflame with unbridled lust…

"A handsome devil you are."

…then he looked like sin incarnate. Like temptation clad in promises of flesh. The thinner his patience stretched, the more of the beast that showed behind the bars of the façade he presented to the human world, the more did Shiro long to burn.

"He could tear me to pieces." A rush of heat flared through his groin at the thought, a tingle of excitement that made him twitch in his half undone pants. "Oh I'm a sick fuck…" And his grin stretched into wickedness. "I think you forgot one step there", he spoke softly, struggling to control his breath as he lowered his face towards his prey. "You have to pick the fruit before you can devour it." The words struck a vicious spark in the green eyes; a challenge, always appreciated a challenge. "Don't we both?" His own eyes looked the same, he was sure, as he ran one finger up the demon's throat and out to the beard that tipped his chin. "Let's see you do that first, your highness", he smiled, tugging the goatee playfully and leaving a feather-light kiss on the smirking lips.

"The King of Beasts will contest the King of Time, is that it…? Well well~"

Shiro's hand had been pressing against the warm chest beneath him, but now the pressure lessened; the fringes that framed Mephisto's face rose up to tickle his forehead, and something laid itself over his back… Without his senses registering any movement, they had suddenly switched position; and Shiro lay pinned on the sheets in Mephisto's four-poster bed.

"I can imagine that's a rather handy trick?" Shiro grinned up at him.

"Oh yes: as is this."

The next thing he knew, his arms were stretched above his head. He tried to lower them, only to discover that his wrists had been tied to the iron lacework of the headboard with his belt. A tingling thrill travelled down his spine and curled itself to rest in his gut: looking up at that devilish grin and those half-lidded eyes, it was evident who was predator and who was prey.

"What, you don't trust me~?" he smirked, tugging at his bonds.

"I wouldn't try my hand at taming a lion unless I'd made sure it was securely chained, Shiro-pon~" Shiro's shirt buttons came undone, one by one at agonizingly slow pace.

"You don't want a tame lion", he breathed through a smirk. His eyes fell shut faintly, his body relishing the feeling of kisses and nibbles on his skin, and the soft tickle of Mephisto's beard trailing down his abdomen. "That'd be n-nnh~ that'd be no fun." The demon's tongue teased the soft skin where ridge of muscle outlined his groin - god, it felt- But, where had his underwear go-? "Now that's a handy trick."

"I beg to differ", he purred, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Taming a beast can be very… enjoyable~"

Mephisto curled his fingers around his hard cock and licked it slowly, base to head, taking his time to lap at the veins that throbbed just beneath the skin. The tip of his tongue dipped into the slit; swirled, prodded… Shiro raised his hips, wanting more. Mephisto only responded by sliding a hand to his hip bone and hold him down. Then the hand slid lower, fingers starting to work the base of his shaft – small motions, frustrating motions – while his tongue swept over the head, occasionally making Shiro's breath hitch by flicking over the string of skin that connected head to shaft.

"Taking his merry time, that bastard." So agonizingly slowly… But he sure knew what he was doing. Shiro's eyes shut as a wave of pleasure pushed a moan up his throat; and immediately opened again. Mephisto had stopped, pausing – pausing? – to tuck his long fringes behind his ears.

A salacious grin, the kind that meant no good, touched the demon's lips before he-

"N-nnh~" Shiro's hips bucked, or tried to, as Mephisto slid the head of his cock into his mouth. Only the head; one clawed hand on his hip made sure of that. "That shitface…!" It was payback. That grin had told him all he needed to know: Mephisto would tease him and taunt him as long as he pleased, until the lion was tamed to his liking. "He can keep on dreaming. Nnh but that's one hell of a silver tongue he's got..."

It was a tongue that melted moans from his lips, a steady dripping of oil onto a fire that burnt hotter with each slow stroke. The demon slowly coaxed him harder, to the point it was unbearable; slowly teased the burning need until building pleasure became unreleased pain. Shiro clenched his teeth around the gasps and moans, calling upon every ounce of self-control not to give Mephisto the pleasure of hearing him beg. He would not give in, would not give in, no matter how much he wanted that asshole to-

"Just suck it, you bastard", he panted, trembling with need under the thin film of sweat that coated his heaving chest.

Opposite effect. Of course.

"Tsk tsk, such language, Shiro."

Language? Now?

"Pardon me, your highness", he returned with a pleasant smile, "but I don't think I'm the one with the dirty mouth here." There was a thick string of cum and saliva dangling from Mephisto's lip... and it made Shiro want to grasp his hair and force him down until he had swallowed his entire length. "You did right in tying me up." Had his hands been free, there would have been no pausing or teasing.

"Well well; I shall have to do my best not to dirty it further, then", he purred, licking the semen from his lip with a smile that sent burning jolts of lust through Shiro's cock.

…a tease. A sadistic tease of monstrous proportions, with all the technique of an Inquisition torturer. Minutes felt like hours, seconds like days: Shiro writhed on the tousled sheets, the muffled creak of leather groaning around his wrists. It felt incredible - a maddening incredible. Flaming lust throbbed in his gut, ate his thoughts, eroded his defiance: he needed the friction, needed those soft lips closed tightly around his cock. But Mephisto didn't touch him.

"I hate you, I hate you, you pointy-eared fucking pest - but it's so good…!"

The demon kept bobbing his head up and down, enclosing him without touching him, just letting the warm breath wrap around his cock with unfulfilled promises of hot, wet pleasure. Shiro's abdomen clenched and unclenched around needy, ragged breaths, his fingers curled around the iron swirls that held him prisoner. It didn't matter how he squirmed or bucked his hips, Mephisto didn't let him have what he so desperately wanted.

"Hnnnh~ just… Do it properly, you-haah~"

"And what's the word…?" The demon smirked sweetly at him, crawling up along his body like a deadly, slender feline toying with cornered prey.

He wouldn't give in, wouldn't beg, wouldn't-

"Please", he panted. Screw pride, screw dignity: all he wanted was to end the torture and come. "Give it to me, please."

"Good boy~" Absinthe eyes caressed his features approvingly, sliding sinful looks over his damp skin. He'd won.

*poof*

The belt around his wrists disappeared, and Shiro propped himself up on his lower arms. Mephisto's lips was already making its way down his chest, fast, eager, and-

"Nnnh…" Shiro's fingers buried in the demon's hair, and his eyes closed in bliss as the heat of Mephisto's mouth finally swallowed- "Hah… ah-haahnn…" His lips slid down his shaft slowly, slowly, taking in his whole length in one greedy swallow. "Nnh Mephis-nhh~" Shiro's body arched when the demon began to move up and down under his hand – dear god, he'd never even imagined…! "Haah haah nnnh yes…!" It was heaven; the wrong kind of heaven, but one he wasn't going to trade for anything. Muscles contracted deep in the demon's throat when he swallowed, tightened around him every time the head of his cock pushed into the hot, wet tightness, and drove him delirious with pleasure. "More! I-nnh Meh-aah Mephisto…!" He bucked his hips into the demon's mouth and gasped as sharp teeth ghosted over skin in response. Satin soft and lethal sharp, the familiar thrill sent jolts of fire through his gut. His fingers clenched in purple hair, body rushing towards a long-awaited orgasm that built, built- "Kee-haah keep going! Just a little more, I-nnh more!" Mephisto's motions came more erratically, fingers gently rolling Shiro's balls between them. His head fell backwards, eyes shut, breath fluttering at the top of his lungs as he thrust harder-

Shiro's eyes snapped open, and for one befuddled, breathless moment he had no idea of anything. Then he realised he was in his bed, and it was still dark, and-

"What the hell did I just dream…?" His eyelids grated like sandpaper against his eyes when he rubbed at them. "I'm throwing the rest of those onigiri away. Right now." After a quick visit to the bathroom, that was: the dream had left him with a pressing – throbbing – matter to take care o-

"Sweet dreams~?"

Shiro sat bolt upright in his bed, hitting his forehead on the empty bunk above and-

"Must be terribly annoying, to get disrupted just when things were getting good", chimed the all-too-familiar voice, coming from a white blob atop the bookshelf. "Alas, a gentleman like myself couldn't bear to leave such desperate pleas unanswered: too cruel on my noble heart."

This wasn't happening.

"I wouldn't mind taking a lion to bed." Shiro's body couldn't decide whether it was hot or cold, much like his mind couldn't decide if he should kill Mephisto or himself or both. "Especially not when the lion's voice is so sweet on one's ears~" No, god, no…! "You make my name sound so dirty, Shiro~"

Shiro grabbed the first solid object within reach and threw it.

What later became known as the White Night fed on the many question marks surrounding its origin, and came to be explained as everything from a poltergeist attack to an indication that study stress had finally cracked Fujimoto Shiro's mind. The only thing the corridor's inhabitants could say for sure was that said student had sprinted down the hall like a rabid dog in nothing but his bed sheet, hurling everything he could get his hands on into walls, and roaring something about a "shit-eating, cunt-faced, perverted fucking incubus".

Some students, although they admitted they were still half-asleep and rather disoriented when it happened, claimed they had heard unhinged laughter in the corridor besides Fujimoto's profanities, and that they thought this to have been some sort of ghost. Others speculated if maybe the ghost had been the one to toss things around in the first place, since no human could possibly have thrown the vending machine halfway across the hall like that. In all, several versions of White Night lived on in the Academy's urban legends for many years to come, although the true nature of it never came to light.

Because the ones who learnt the truth were made to swear under oath never to tell a soul about it.

A/N: I'm a vile tease, please don't hurt me…! TTwTT'

Shiro had it coming… And no, I couldn't make it a "real" event. My basic reasoning is as follows: Mephisto won't let anyone get in the way of his plans, and that does not exclude himself. I imagine he's beckoned by all manner of temptations that he would love to give in to, but if they pose a risk to his long-term goals he will go against his own nature and abstain from them. His main aim isn't getting Shiro in bed (not that he would mind that) but to groom him for more important purposes.

…I know I've got very competent smut writers sitting in front of the computer screen right now. ^_^' I tip my hat to you and the work you do. I found this genre a bit of an uphill run, but feedback tells me it wasn't as bad as it looked on my screen. Thank you guys, it means a lot to me. ^u^

Hermes, that I put as one of Samael's earlier aliases in ch 73, also fills a function as "dream master": namely, he directs dreams from the underworld into the minds of sleeping people. =P I thought it would fit somebody who is King of Time and Space, since he's evidently capable of transferring minds across dimensions: maybe he'd be able to transfer other things to your mind, such as dreams/illusions?

I sneaked in a little something from classical literature that I'd be surprised if anyone beside A notices, but if anyone does... then good for you. ;)