A Coffin Full of Roses Chapter 3: Part 3, a kuroshitsuji fanfic

Part 3

With a sigh, Grell had no choice but to wait for the mortician's return. He held up the oil lamp, looking around the room. Much to his joy, he saw a collection of candles on the shelf with the music box and a few long matchsticks. He set the lamp next to the jar with the dead creature in it and went about finding perfect spots to place the candles. He lifted the glass of the oil lamp to light the sticks and set all the candles aglow.

"Much better," Grell said, pleased with his efficiency. The room felt more comfortable now and he didn't need to keep holding the lamp. Now that it was brighter in here, he saw a hook intended for oil lamps and hung it up.

Feeling a bit more at ease, Grell removed his red coat. He flung it over the weird mannequin's head with repugnance, "Sorry pal, but you're killing the mood."

Then he found a dusty old mirror hanging on the wall and fluffed out his hair. It was a horrid dishevelled mess from the make-out scene in the coffin and from Undertaker messing with it so much. He smirked, blew a kiss at his reflection and said, "Who wouldn't want this parcel all wrapped up in a bow?" Upon closer inspection, Grell pursed his lips. "Ugh, darling your eye make-up is fading."

"Tsk. Hasn't anyone ever told you that a creature such as yourself shouldn't require cosmetics? You are as beautiful as a summer garden bursting with red roses, my dear."

The redhead spun around, startled. Grell waved his hand at the silly man, "Flattery will get you everywhere, handsome."

Undertaker chuckled and poured a large pitcher full of hot water into a white porcelain washbasin decorated with blue floral prints that sat on a bedside table. He dropped in two washcloths. "Be back in a jiffy!" He sang and dashed from the room again, returning a moment later with a few other items.

Grell stood watching as Undertaker fussed about. He'd never seen him like this before, all hustle and bustle. "Ooh," he sounded approvingly. "You brought more of that elderberry cordial. Yes, please!"

"I thought you might like a small nip, my lady. I did get this wine especially for you." Undertaker poured two beakers half full with the sweet liquid. He handed Grell the drink and took a generous sip of his own before asking, "I wonder if you're in need of some nourishment, too? Please do not hesitate to ask me should you need anything."

"Oh, quite the gentlemen aren't we," Grell praised and took the wine, drinking it eagerly this time. What fun it was to be dotted on just how a lady should be dotted on, Grell thought virtuously, soaking up such chivalry. However, what Grell said next was not very chivalrous at all. He smiled wickedly at the other man. "The only thing I'm hungry for right now is you."

"Oh, well, well…" A cunning smirk played over Undertaker's face as he gestured to Grell to come to him, curling one long finger.

Grell's eyes lit up as the mortician stood there beckoning to him like the sly devil he was. He let his eyes roam, admiring how Undertaker looked without his funerary hat, wearing his long, black robe adorned with that chain he fussed over. He loved how Undertaker's beautiful hair, long and flowing, hung past his waist like spun silver. And how those buckled boots showed more leg without the long-sleeved outer cloak and sash—the man definitely knew how to hide the goods. What Grell loved the most was how Undertaker kept sweeping back his hair as if he was doing it just for him, knowing just how much he admired his lovely face.

Gah! It wasn't fair how Undertaker could change from a drool-giggling fool into a come-hither vixen just like that.

"Come to me, my dear," Undertaker petitioned again, this time out loud.

Grell sauntered over calmly trying so hard not to squeal and flutter, like a foolish lass. He could be a vixen too, dammit!

The mortician took the beaker of wine from Grell and set it on a small table along with his own. Then he said, "Now be a good girl and hold still while I remove these clothes of yours and bathe your sullied corpse—" He gasped with shock. Undertaker glanced at Grell with wide eyes. "Oppsie…" He sang and laughed anxiously. "Old habit…old habit, too much time spent with deceased folk. He-he! "

Grell simply glared at Undertaker murderously. "How dare you!" he cried. "If I were a corpse, I would be the most beautiful. My body is far fromsullied, you ignoramus!"

Undertaker held up his hands in surrender and cut his laughter off at the quick. "A poor choice of words, truly it was a mistake. I really should get out more," he confessed, giggling feebly again. Grell's reaction really was funny even if he didn't mean to say that to him. He was surprised that Grell got so mad at him for the term 'sullied' rather than 'corpse'.

What an amusing little redhead.

Undertaker reached over and began tugging at Grell's striped tie, unravelling it slowly. "Of course you'd be the most beautiful corpse, my dear—I'd be flattered if I was the one that got to bury you, how lovely." He chuckled and twirled one end of the tie around his finger. "I wouldn't have to do a thing to prepare you because you're always in perfect condition."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Grell's face.

"Ah, see…" Undertaker didn't miss that little smile, waggling a finger at Grell. "You know I'm right. Now," he said smoothly, "Allow me to unveil the perfect picture underneath." He yanked the tie from Grell's neck swiftly and tossed it aside.

Grell was still giving the mortician a chilly look, but he waved off the slip-up. "Just mind your tongue, handsome, it's no way to speak to a livinglady."

"It will not happen again," Undertaker assured and pressed a finger firmly to Grell's pouting lips. "Come now. Let's not fret over petty errors any longer." He demanded softly but his demeanor was firm, his face stern.

There was that controlling side again, the one Undertaker had shown Grell this morning when he grabbed him by his coat. It quickly had Grell turning into a wriggling mass of jelly again. "I really do love a man that knows what he wants and grabs the bull by the horns—and I'm so very horny, darling." He laughed naughtily. "Divest me of this wretched clothing!"

Once again, the old reaper did not need telling twice.

Grell's excitement was like putting a firecracker into a tin can. He was positively explosive with anticipation and tried with great difficulty to keep still as Undertaker began to remove his clothing, piece by tantalizing piece. First went the vest and then his boots. When Grell glanced down, the mortician just smiled up at him as if this was the best gift anyone had ever given him.

"Fool," Grell taunted mischievously.

Undertaker's smile became a suave one and he stood back up. Without a reply, he continued his task of disrobing the redhead. The mortician unbuttoned Grell's shirt and brushed his hands over perfect skin as light and soft as a peach, pushing the material from his shoulders, leaving him bare from the waist up.

Grell heard the silver-haired reaper swallowing hard as he touched him. "Do you like what you see, handsome, cause I really think you do."

All Undertaker could do in response right now… was giggle.

The redhead frowned and rolled his eyes. "Good grief," Grell sighed incredulously. "I'm going to take that as your 'I'm speechless because you're sizzling hot' laugh. Do tell me I'm wrong?"

Undertaker just shook his head.

Grell grinned triumphantly. "Darling, you're drooling…"

The mortician idly wiped his chin with his sleeve. Grell's beauty was… breathtaking. Mmm, his hands lingered over his skin, totally enthralled by its heat and splendor, its beautiful shape over tight, lean muscle and sinew. How the candlelight accentuated every attractive dip and curve where joints met and bones told the story underneath. Grell was right…

Undertaker was speechless.

Without further delay, he stripped the redhead of every hindering stitch and Undertaker took a moment to appreciate the red angel of death standing before him. He held a finger to his chin, his unhidden eyes soaking up every bare inch of Grell's beautiful naked body.

"My, my…" He purred.

Once Undertaker got this far, he definitely wanted a whole lot more. This lovely redhead was waiting, well… impatiently waiting, he-he, for him to send him soaring. Grell was not alone in that regard, Undertaker's patience was wearing thin. He had the very mind to forgo everything and take the redhead against the wall like an animal, over, and over, and over again.

However, Grell deserved much more than that.

"You're already excited to see me," Undertaker told Grell with a naughty twitter, noting his erect length all pink and standing at his full attention. He strolled around the redhead to get a nice look at everything. The soft roundness of Grell's shoulders, the elegant slope of his back and the nice swell of his charming backside. He gazed over long legs and back up again over his genitals surrounded by a tuft of crimson curls. Undertaker wanted to prod Grell's cute little bellybutton with a finger or his tongue. He will… later, he-he.

The hunger in Undertaker's eyes gave Grell all the confidence he needed so that he did not stand there like an exposed, quivering flower. The man was in every sense of the expression, circling him like a predator on the prowl. Under such lustful scrutiny, Grell not only felt like a 'pretty reaper', he felt like the sexiest reaper alive! And Undertaker told him that with just one look. It drove him wild.

Undertaker retrieved a washcloth and wrung it out, returning to Grell's side in all eagerness. "I surely don't deserve this treat. Even if you asked me to stop now, I don't think I could."

"If you stop now pal, you're dead meat!" Grell threatened severely.

"Oh dear, then let's not dawdle."

The mortician brought the hot, damp cloth to Grell's body and ever so carefully washed away the days' grime. His hand was firm but gentle, the cloth caressing Grell's neck and shoulders, rivulets of water racing along his spine and down his legs to his toes. The red reaper watched as Undertaker bathed him with one hand and used his other hand to explore and caress. It was the most sensual thing anyone has ever done for him, Grell shivered deliciously.

"Are you chilled?" Undertaker wondered looking up with concern when Grell trembled, noting the goose bumps dappling his skin. "It is quite nippy this evening and here I have you all stark and wet."

"I'm just revving up my engine, darling," Grell assured and sighed as the washing cloth smoothed up along his inner thigh, right between his legs and boldly over his erection. The redhead suddenly reached out and grasped Undertaker's shoulder for support, lest he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

The man missed nothing.

Grell shivered again and bit his lip. "You're sooo good at this," he purred heatedly. "But why don't you get undressed and let me play a little, too?" He used the ace up his sleeve. "You did say I could have whatever I wish tonight since I am your guest. Don't make me beg again."

Undertaker observed the redhead batting his eyelashes at him sweetly. "Fu-fu. Alright…"

Wow, that was almost too easy. Grell thought in astonishment.

The mortician unfastened his mourning chain first, setting the lockets on the bedside table. Then he took a seat at the edge of the bed and began working the buckles loose on his boots, boots that went to mid-thigh Grell noticed, his tongue nearly lolling from his mouth.

"Please! Let me assist." Grell beseeched, his virtual tail wagging again. He knelt in front of Undertaker and shooed the man's hands away in a flurry, undoing the rest of the buckles with glee. Then he pulled the black-leather boots off Undertaker's feet and set them aside.

Undertaker was chuckling softly at Grell's pushiness. He pressed off the bed, urging Grell to stand too. "You have my thanks, my dear. Those boots are a right chore."

"A little sacrifice never killed anyone in the name of beauty," Grell alleged stubbornly.

Undertaker was about to point out that many people indeed have died in the name of beauty but he did not get the chance. Grell grabbed at him covetously nearly ripping the buttons off his shirt, undoing them impatiently.

"Get naked now," Grell demanded.

"Why can't I undress myself?" Undertaker rebuked, feeling like Grell's personal ragdoll all the sudden. "I'm a big reaper now." But he didn't fight it, he played along. It was all part of the fun.

"Yes you are, but you are a brazen tease and you will be clothed all night if I stand here and wait." Grell told him indignantly. "Besides you got to divest cute little me and now I'm returning the favour."

What fun, Undertaker so loved the easy banter they shared, especially now of all times. It reminded him that even if the trust between them was still growing, their bond was quite tenacious.

"I'm sure that's not the only reason," Undertaker taunted, pushing his hair aside with his fingers. He didn't want to miss anything.

Grell laughed seductively. "You know me so well, gorgeous. Of course, I just can't keep my hands off of you."

The mortician could not help but smile thoughtfully, gracious to all the powers greater than he was that this fiery redhead embraced his affections with eye-opening enthusiasm. He reached over and caressed the side of Grell's face with the back of his hand in a startling gesture of fondness, causing the redhead to look up at him quickly. "Then by all means," he encouraged with a fetching smile, "… put your hands all over me."

Grell giggled in such a way, he sounded very much like a girl just then, a hot blush staining the crests of his cheeks. Undertaker also loved that he could make Grell burn with passion painting his beautiful face with just a few sexy words.

"Oh, you are a charmer, darling, a real minx," Grell claimed. "I shouldn't be so surprised though. Seems you are a pretty good actor yourself—letting everyone believe you are a mad old man. Old man my arse—mad, perhaps." He taunted and pushed the black robe from Undertaker's broad shoulders letting the material slide to the floor. It left the mortician wearing only his fitted black pants that fit snug against his lean waist and the necklace. "But I must say I do like this side of you much better," Grell said, the double-entendre definitely on purpose. His eyes trailed over the ex-reaper's body, which was taut with smooth pallid skin. It reminded Grell of warmed cream as he spread his hands liberally across Undertaker's chest, brushing over nicely sculpted pectorals and down over his abdomen.

"People see what they want to see and not what they should," Undertaker enlightened as Grell's hands left hot trails on his flesh.

"I guess I'm guilty of that, thinking I knew what you were about but… how wrong I was," Grell said and asked meekly, "Forgive me?"

Undertaker beamed. "A thousand times over…"

Grell grinned at that and spoke in a sultry voice, "Mmm, I'm gonna lap up every hot drop of your honey… honey." Then he chuckled ever so mischievously.

"Oh, the things you say, my dear. He-he-he!" The silver-haired reaper had to chuckle too at the use of that line again.

"You're such a dish," Grell murmured and wrapped his arms around the man, surprisingly grabbing Undertaker's backside fully in two hands. The red reaper brought their bodies together roughly. "These trousers of yours suggest a firm tush and I…" *squeeze-squeeze* "…just had to find out for myself."

And what Undertaker loved the most was how Grell made him feel so alive…

"Is that so?" The side of Undertaker's mouth curled up devilishly as he smoothed one hand over the redhead's bare rump and dug his nails in, hard.

Grell cried out hotly as if orgasmic.

The silver-haired shinigami revelled in Grell's shrill howl. Chuckling, Undertaker retracted his nails and patted Grell's bare bottom playfully. "Why, you have a splendid backside too, my lady."

"You sure know how to put those nails of yours to good use. Mmmm, I don't mind it a little rough." Grell's tone was almost daring. Yet, he released the mortician and stepped back, rubbing his own smarting ass while Undertaker wasn't looking.

Grell eagerly stood watching and let the older reaper shed the rest of his clothes by himself, but he stopped him before he removed the black-beaded necklace. "Keep it on, handsome," he told him with a wink.

The old reaper shrugged and left the necklace dangling over his bare chest. Other than that, Undertaker stood there naked as a jaybird.

The red reaper held a hand to his chest. "Y-you're gorgeous," he stammered.

Grell was always so outspoken and Undertaker had to chuckle humbly. The redhead was staring at a whole lot more than just his eyes now.

"Ooh, it's my turn," Grell sang with glee and picked up the other washcloth from the basin.

Undertaker fully intended to bathe himself since Grell was his guest and he was supposed to be the gracious host here. Nevertheless, he thought with an inward smile, he did not mind the idea one bit. "If you must," he said pleasantly.

"I insist, I insist," Grell declared. He simpered and cooed as he washed all over Undertaker's lovely fair skin and long limbs. He was mindful of all that silver hair, holding it this way and that as he worked. As he swept the warm wet cloth, down along Undertaker's back Grell had a poetic thought. The old soul reaper was like a butterfly hiding in a cocoon of frumpy clothes.

However, once his cloth reached Undertaker's backside, Grell got ridiculously distracted for a moment. He licked his lips as he admired a most delicious pale rump. It was just too tempting...

Undertaker squawked unceremoniously when Grell sunk his teeth into his rear, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. The mortician glanced sharply over his shoulder down at Grell with a slightly pained look in his eyes. The redhead chuckled impishly, he was not letting go.

"That was unexpected to say the least," Undertaker said breathlessly and then, what else, he began to laugh hysterically. "Ha-ha-ha, owwie…! Let go! Waa-ha-ha!"

Grell reluctantly let go, snapping his razor-sharp teeth mischievously at the legendary reaper. For a brief moment he wondered what William would say if he knew exactly what kind of trouble he was causing this very moment—leaving bite marks on the notorious Undertaker. Grell gave a lewd chuckle just at the thought. It filled his chest with an odd sense of pride.

"That's payback for sinking your nails into my backside, darling. Though, I'm quite tempted to bite the other cheek just to hear you make that appealing sound again." Grell warned smugly.

"Fair enough, I deserved that," Undertaker granted. "But I was hoping to be the one that got the first bite."

"All's fair in love and war," the red reaper informed.

Undertaker couldn't argue with that.

Grell noticed with amusement how twitchy Undertaker was as he continued to wash him, especially when he neared his backside, which was still marked with the indentations of his pointy teeth. Oh, what an enjoyable partner Undertaker was tonight and they haven't even gotten to the steamy stuff yet. Grell smiled and turned his thoughts to fluffier things for a moment, because deep down he was a diehard romantic. Indeed, the retired shinigami was not how he imagined in all of his wildest dreams and Grell had to wonder what it would be like to belong to a beautiful butterfly like Undertaker.

Alas, he could not help but wonder, a part of him really hoping this was not just a one-night stand.

"You're much too quiet," Undertaker began carefully, noting how the washcloth had stopped moving and Grell stood there in front of him staring off into oblivion. "What are you pondering about in that fiery head of yours?"

Grell blinked out of his reverie, eyes focusing on Undertaker's face. He was not ready to share his innermost thoughts about butterflies. Instead, he smiled wickedly as he knelt to finish bathing the ex-reaper as if nothing strange occurred at all. With a spry look, Grell's eyes admired and washed a very male part of the Undertaker.

"Oooh, it seems as if the hair on your head isn't the only thing that's silver," Grell pointed out with a fiendish laugh.

Undertaker gave Grell a lop-sided grin. "That's what you were thinking about?"

"Hmmm, maybe," Grell said without any more of an explanation, making sure his washcloth didn't miss a spot either. He palmed the washcloth firmly around the man's stiff cock. "What do you know—you're excited to see me, too. For a while there you were making me lonely..."

For the first time ever, Undertaker got the feeling Grell was keeping something important from him. That wasn't how it was supposed to work but right now was not the time to ponder. Grell was touching him intimately and Undertaker ached so hard. Besides, he knew when he heard a lady's desirable plea.

Grell had waited long enough.

In one fell swoop, Undertaker lifted a startled Grell into his arms, retaking command. He placed the redhead down in the middle of the purple bedspread gently, plucking the washcloth from his fingers and tossing it into the basin with a splash. Then he crawled over top of the fairest and barest lady, whose lovely shinigami eyes were wide with astonishment behind rose-coloured glasses.

"You don't ever have to feel lonely when you're with me, pretty red reaper," Undertaker murmured ever so sensually. "You're as intoxicating as laughter and I'm dreadfully addicted…"

Grell was utterly gobsmacked.

Undertaker captured Grell's speechless mouth in a steamy kiss, sweeping the glasses from his face and gently loosed the chain, reaching out blindly and setting them next to his lockets on the nightstand. He didn't want to break the specs and he surely didn't want them to hinder him from kissing all over Grell's lovely face. He didn't want them to obstruct his fingers as they combed through Grell's vermilion hair.

The redhead sighed as Undertaker's nails grazed gently over his scalp causing him to moan out and tremble beneath him. Mmm, he was such a good kisser, his lips felt so soft and urgent and Grell could taste the elderberry wine still lingering on Undertaker's tongue. He let him have total control, their kisses grew deeper and wetter, and their bodies pressed together reminded them both of the terrible longing they both shared.

Undertaker pulled back for a moment to gaze at the younger reaper beneath him, admiring his swollen wet lips and adorable blushing face. "You look like a scrumptious tart lying here in my bed with hair all pooled about the pillow like a mangled rose."

Eyes all fogged by desire, Grell blinked some of that haze away. "You compare me to roses quite often, darling, not that I mind," he said breathlessly. "Red roses are my favourite flower. I mean, really, it shouldn't come as a shock." He played with the necklace that was tickling the side of his face as Undertaker watched him patiently. "Now I remember why that painting above your bed nagged me. I was meaning to ask you about that coffin filled with dead roses. Why do you have such an arbitrary collection?"

The old reaper thought about it for a moment. "He-he, I should make you pay me for that answer—"

Menacingly, Grell narrowed his eyes.

"—alright, fine… I'll tell you." He scoffed. "I had full intentions of giving them to you, dear. However, I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes." Undertaker told him frankly.

Grell was positively purring beneath the Undertaker now. "And wretchedly they all died and you placed them in a coffin as a keepsake. How romantic…!"

Undertaker grinned goofily. "I'm glad you think so."

The red reaper was igniting all over—all those roses for him! There had to be dozens upon dozens in there. Yes, the flowers were pitiful and dead now, but that wasn't the point. Oh, the night was positively growing sweeter by the second. Feeling tremendously turned-on, Grell thread his fingers through the mortician's hair and yanked, bringing the old reaper's mouth to his again.

Undertaker sighed heatedly and rubbed himself against Grell's hip in response.

The redhead whined sweetly at the hard friction as Undertaker changed the course of his lips to kiss under Grell's chin and along his throat. He suckled noisily and used his teeth to scrape softly, sometimes sharply, over tender skin enjoying how Grell's hands found their way to his ass again. But those hands glided along his back as Undertaker explored lower, licking and tasting Grell's chest and navel, leaving his own string of bite marks all over the redhead's flesh.

With glorious sighs escaping his parted lips, Grell squirmed delectably. He quivered from the sensation of silver strands ghosting over his skin and how blissfully, Undertaker assaulted him with his mouth. It was such divine torture. The stinging rasp of nails drew a hiss from Grell as Undertaker scratched under his thighs. The stinging, though, was quickly forgotten when the old reaper laved his tongue hotly along the length of his swollen cock.

"Oh dear lord," Grell breathed out.

Undertaker knelt between Grell's legs, one arm wrapped around his upper leg like a snake, nails gripping his thigh hard. His other hand found its way to Grell's belly, his thumb happily circling that cute belly button he admired earlier while he went down on him.

To say the mortician's tongue was skilled was an understatement, Grell thought as it wriggled and swirled in a pattern he'd never felt before. That eager tongue explored everywhere and everything. It had Grell pressing his head hard against the pillows and reaching down to grab handfuls of ashen hair in two tight fists. He mewled softly as Undertaker tended his length steadily, his mouth incredibly warm and wet. Just when Grell thought it couldn't get any hotter, the man used those talons of his to graze under his balls, causing him to thrust up, driving his cock further down Undertaker's throat.

Ooh, the old reaper had a good gag reflex, too.

When Grell looked down at the action, he saw the glow of Undertaker's eyes peaking through his hair, watching his reactions. The man grinned at him with a mouth full of cock.

Grell grinned back. "Quite the talent you have there," he praised, panting softly. "Mmm… but I wonder if you'd let me do the same or… are you troubled that I might dismember you?"

With a wet slurp, Undertaker brought his head up and pushed back his hair so he could look at Grell directly. "I'm not worried in the slightest," he replied confidently. "I might even enjoy a little nibble or two."

Now Grell's grin went diabolical. "Then give it for I have some worthy talent of my own, you know."

They switched positions. Undertaker gladly flopped back with his head against the pillows. He was all smiles and lust while Grell was all trouble and passion.

Grell rest back on his legs and admired Undertaker's long lanky body sprawled before him, his eyes completely hidden again, wearing that silly smirk on his face. "Ooh, where to start with you," Grell said enticingly. "I've been given a key and I can't decide what hole to put it in." He chuckled at his wayward joke.

Undertaker's smirk broke into a huge toothy grin.

Grell decided he would start from the bottom and work his way up, opposite of the path Undertaker took. He smoothed his hands along the old reaper's legs, leaning down to sample the tender skin of his inner thigh with his tongue. The skin was sweet and fresh from the recent bath and Grell drew his tongue along lasciviously. With one hand, Grell clasped his fingers around Undertaker's ample cock, thrilled by well it fit in his grip. The redhead began to stroke him as he wickedly pricked his teeth along his thigh gingerly.

Undertaker's leg twitched. "Eee! I'm so very ticklish."

With and inward smile, Grell realized he had discovered another one of the man's weaknesses. He mentally tucked that jewel away as he brought his mouth to Undertaker's length. He held it up, flicking his tongue off the juicy tip.

Undertaker gasped softly.

Triumphant with that response, Grell went for the showstopper and surprisingly swallowed the entire length into his mouth until the head of old reaper's cock hit the back of his throat.

"Blue blazes!"

Hearing Undertaker curse hell was something else and Grell moaned with appreciation enjoying what he was doing to the man. His pace was eager and steady as he sucked the entire length all while being mindful of his teeth. He felt Undertaker's fingers moving through his hair collecting it and keeping it from getting in the way. Grell flashed sultry eyes in his direction. The old reaper was blurry without his glasses but he could definitely make out a rapturous smile. Better than that, he could hear his exulted sighs of pleasure.

Undertaker marvelled at the vision of Grell's red head bobbing before him, his lips wrapped wetly around his flesh. Ahhh, it was so lovely. He closed his eyes to savour the sensation, his own body alive with desire. But when Grell's intensity increased further Undertaker felt stirrings he didn't want to feel just yet.

"Slow down, my dear," urged the mortician whimsically. "Don't want to end the merrymaking too soon. He-he."

Grell got the hint. He removed Undertaker's length from his mouth and gave it one long lick. Then he batted his lashes innocently at the old reaper before and gave the head of his cock a firm nipping—just to cool him off a bit.

The man merely squeaked with breathy giggles.

Oh? Perhaps Undertaker was ticklish there as well, Grell thought wryly. However, not to be distracted by ticklish man parts, Grell purred his way across the old shinigami's body as he crawled over top of him. When he came face to face with Undertaker, he teased him into thinking he was going to kiss him again. But he only kissed his cheek playfully, receiving a low groan from the old reaper. Instead, Grell pressed gentle kisses all over his face brushing silver locks of hair away, resting both his hands on top of his head. Just to let the man know he found every part of him hot, Grell was sure to feather kisses across Undertaker's jagged facial scar.

"Close your eyes," he requested softly. Undertaker complied and Grell pressed his lips to each silver-lashed eyelid tenderly.

Undertaker happily soaked up the attention.

Grell's lips travelled to one ear where he explored, playing over the mortician's piercings with his tongue and mouth. He whispered, "Indeed, you have hidden this intriguing side of you so very well, Undertaker."

"As I mentioned, a gentleman never shares all of his secrets," Undertaker reminded him quietly. "Leaves a little for the imagination, something new to discover by and by, don't you think?"

That was an interesting way to put it. "Is that an invitation you're proposing?" Grell countered resting the side of his face against Undertaker's cheek.

"Clever," the old reaper replied favourably. "And if it was an invitation, would you accept?"

The red reaper smiled.

"A lady has her secrets, too. Let me think about it," Grell answered coolly, giving Undertaker a taste of his own medicine. Inside Grell was secretly bursting with wonder at Undertaker's mysterious words, but he was a wonderful actress after all. He wasn't about to promise anything to the crafty old reaper just yet. How did he know Undertaker wasn't just playing another mind game with him, since the man seemed to love taunting his sensibilities. He played it cool, for now.

Undertaker frowned, that was not what he was hoping to hear. "Not fair, my lady," he complained.

"It's not so fun being on the other side of the fence now is it, darling?" Grell crooned, moving his head to look directly at Undertaker now. "Since when have you known me to play fair?"

"Wily creature…"

Grell sneered at him, "Troub-le-maker."

The cool silence that followed completely unnerved Grell as Undertaker gazed at him with no expression at all. For a chilling moment, he wondered if he'd pissed him off. Just as he was about to apologize Undertaker pounced as if he'd just caught his prey, rolling them over and pinning him down against the bed roughly.

"You're driving me mad." Undertaker's tone was intense.

"Oh yes!" Grell growled, excitedly. "Don't hold back, lover."

Undertaker's heated disposition softened into a devious smirk again as he reached over for the scented oil from the nightstand. He had brought it along with the wine and hot water. It worked as a wonderful lubricant for such scenarios since he had no desire at all to bring his lover that kind of pain. "I will be as gentle as I can until you're comfortable. But I fear I cannot prepare you properly with nails such as these…" He waggled his fingers fiendishly in front of him. "—a real handicap on my part."

"Then allow me to change position to make things a little easier all around, hmm?" Grell suggested.

Undertaker moved out of the way and watched Grell reposition himself. The redhead turned on his side with one leg straight out and the other leg slightly spread in front of it, bent at the knee. The mortician smiled knowingly, Grell had some knowledge of anatomy as well, especially when it came to his nether regions. He-he!

"That will do just fine," agreed Undertaker. He lay down behind Grell and shuffled his body up against him nice and snug. Using the oil from the small vile, he applied the slick substance to himself and massaged it generously against Grell's entrance as well. Then, he guided himself inside pressing the head of his cock into that tight orifice.

Grell's mouth parted with a shaky sigh his brows creasing. He squeezed his eyes shut.

When Undertaker wasn't being silly he was actually very loving and affectionate. He was especially mindful of Grell's responses watching and listening carefully, lulling the redhead, caressing a hand over his arm softly and kissing the side of his face tenderly. He did this as he eased himself in gradually allowing the red reaper's body to adjust around him. When he was buried to the hilt he held still for a moment, relishing in the heat and how Grell's body squeezed his cock. But it must have been a moment too long.

The redhead looked back at him impatiently and demanded, "Do it already."

Undertaker gave an airy chuckle. "Like this…?"

A delightful shudder passed the red reaper's lips. He sighed and mewled with every soft thrust as a sea of red began to wash over his eyes. "Oh yesss…" he sounded in utter bliss, "Just like that." He felt as if he could spontaneously combust and perhaps he was on fire as Undertaker stoked his flame. The old reaper's pace was unhurried but steady as he warmed them up.

Undertaker released soft rumbles next to the redhead's ear as he fucked him his hand clasped around Grell's cock and tugging him firmly. He didn't want Grell to feel neglected in the slightest.

Grell peered over his shoulder Undertaker's mouth was set in certain determination and breath moving noticeably passed his lips his eyes concealed once more. The redhead parted a few silver strands with his finger to find a pair of smoldering eyes watching him intently.

The redhead's cock throbbed within Undertaker's grasp the moment he looked at his eyes. It made him smile sweetly at Grell purr close to his ear. Some say the soul can be seen through a person's eyes and he wondered if Grell could see his, perhaps. He's never known one reaper to prove it untrue. And if Grell really saw something he couldn't, does it scare him? Undertaker chuckled at his wondrous thoughts and held himself inside as he changed their position.

Grell felt the old reaper urging him to his knees, so he got on his fours. Remarkably, the man was able to maneuver them without removing himself even once.

Now that Undertaker was sure Grell was comfortable and pliable, he really wanted to pound his pretty little ass. "Let's see if I can make youscreeeam… with delight, of course." He laughed darkly.

"Such a big talker—"

Thrust!

"AH!" Grell cried out. Undertaker chuffed behind him victoriously.

Thrust! Thrust!

Grell cried out again and flashed astonished eyes behind him. The silver-haired reaper just grinned at him wickedly.

"You might want to hold onto something," Undertaker suggested.

The paced increased by a tenfold and a stinging steak of heat burned across Grell's face. Undertaker was taking him hard and fast, slamming into him. For a moment, Grell choked on a wholesome wail of ecstasy. For a breathless moment, he thought he might even pass out. It was glorious! The sea of red raged inside of him now as his body shook and quaked with every knock. The old reaper had real stamina, as he did not seem as if he would slow down any time soon.

Grell grabbed the bedspread fiercely, his cries music to Undertaker's ears.

Undertaker breathed heavily as he relentlessly drilled the redhead, holding him securely by the hips, his nails cutting into Grell's sides. With gritted teeth, his thighs smacked loudly off the red reaper's ass as every lovely howl that Grell made brought him closer and closer to the edge. But he wasn't going to stop until he gave Grell the best shag of his life.

"Oh mercy! Mercy!" Grell was pleading, but he didn't mean it.

For a moment, Undertaker removed himself and Grell looked back with a disappointed whine. However, he realized quickly that the old reaper was only shifting into a different position. He hovered over him, clinging to his back with legs spread on either side of his hips and both feet planted squarely on the bed. When his cock stabbed back into him, Grell felt it hit his sweet spot.

He gave a guttural scream of sheer pleasure.

With arms wrapped around Grell's chest for support, Undertaker moved his hips like a well-oiled machine. He was grunting softly now with all the effort, sweat moistening his body. He really gave it to Grell, a first-rate fuck.

The red reaper was in a state of extreme rapture, his body never taken so hard before. What an amazing position, he did not want this fun to end but he could no longer hold himself up. His body gave out, he sunk to the bed in a pitiful heap, and Undertaker chuckled unexpectedly as he went down with him.

Chest rising and falling heavily Undertaker panted, "Is everything alright?"

"Why are you stopping?" Grell bemoaned. "Please… don't stop…"

"Fu-fu-fu!" Undertaker's laugh was a randy one as he continued to fuck the red reaper who was flat on his stomach while he was sprawled over top. "You feel sooo bloody lovely," he murmured, driving his hips swiftly.

They kept at it until Grell declared, "I'm so close but I don't want to come all over your bedspread."

Undertaker blinked and slowed for a moment. "Right now, my dear… I don't give a damn." But, Grell had a point and Undertaker manage to conjure a better idea from it. He pushed himself up and Grell turned around until he lay on his back looking up at him.

"My, my, aren't you a sight you naughty girl," Undertaker mused. Grell's face was flushed pink along with his entire body that was covered in scratches and teeth marks. He parted the redhead's legs and pointed out one other thing. "Oh, looksie… I do believe you're the one drooling now." With an evil twitter, he slammed back into Grell with eerie precision not giving him a chance for a reply.

Undertaker was determined to keep Grell a right mess until he reached his utopia.

The old shinigami clung onto Grell as he lay on top of him and the redhead wrapped his legs around his waist. Undertaker buried his head against the red reaper's shoulder thrusting into him with everything he had. Mmm, he was getting blissfully close now, too.

Grell was panting hard against Undertaker's ear as his entire body began to tense.

Undertaker knew what was coming and he brought up his head setting his sights on Grell's face. He told him fervently, "Show me your soul, beautiful."

That was all it took and Grell came undone. He unleashed his glorious climax, a heated song of orgasm. His cock pulsed between their bellies releasing his burden. Grell was panting and shuddering with every red wave that washed over him.

Undertaker was in awe at the sight of his pretty reaper in the throes of release and he and gave his final thrusts, the entire sensory overload before him bringing him to his otherworldly peak. He pushed himself up and pulled out coming all over Grell's stomach, a few shots even reached the red head's collarbone.

Slowly winding down from his release, Grell witnessed the sexiest side of Undertaker he had ever seen. Gone was the maddening smile, the mischief in his eyes. The sweet pain on his face replaced all of that. His brows furrowed with eyes squeezed shut and his mouth parted as shaky breaths flitted passed his lips. Grell watched him pumping the last drop of honey from his spent cock and he groaned with appreciation.

Having no shame, Grell smoothed his hand at the base of his neck spreading the essence Undertaker placed there. He was deeply impressed by the distance the man was able to achieve. It was definitely brag-worthy. And just like he promised, Grell licked the honey from his fingers, one by one.

"Oh… you are a sweet thing," he raved not minding the taste on his fingers at all.

For a long moment, Undertaker just stared at Grell as he cleaned his fingers. Then he suddenly exploded with raucous peals of laughter. Grell always said the funniest things and this time it took the cake! Right now, he could not contain it, Undertaker laughed so hard he lost his balance and fell right off the end the bed.

Grell sat up with a start. All he could see was a pair of blurry bare feet sticking straight up into the air at the foot of the bed. And for the life of him, he laughed, too! It was the funniest sight. He quickly grabbed his glasses and crawled to the end of the bed, looking down between those feet to see Undertaker flounced on the floor shaking with mirth.

"It's no wonder you didn't hurt yourself you silly man," Grell told him like a mother hen, holding a hand to his mouth to stifle his giddy chuckles. Laughing came much easier after a nice romp and Grell was in a fine mood.

Abruptly Grell realized what he was doing. "Eww! Guess which hand I just used on my face?"

Undertaker laughed thunderously now, so hard it sounded like he was almost crying. Perhaps he was because tears leaked from his eyes over his gasps and howls. "T-that's the f-funniest thing e-ver! HE-HE-HE! WAAAAA HA-HA!"

For once Grell truly joined in on a good laugh with the man. Undertaker was right, it was really funny. When Grell was finished giggling, he simply admired Undertaker's laughing face that was completely unveiled to him. Oh, he was a mad butterfly, no doubt but...

Grell smiled thoughtfully. He was a beautiful mad butterfly.

The red reaper climbed off the bed. He left Undertaker to his other form of climax while he retrieved the washcloth and cleaned himself up. The water was cold now, but it was refreshing. "I'm just going to use the ladies room," Grell announced, stealing Undertaker's black cloak that lay directly at his feet. He slipped into it and held it closed before stepping out into the dark funeral parlor.

Undertaker managed to get it together eventually and once he calmed down, he yawned loudly. He felt utterly spent but he smiled—it was a good kind of spent. He got off the floor and cleaned himself up as well. Then he wandered into the parlor in the buff because he could not find his shirt imagining he'd find Grell in the privy but he wasn't there. When Undertaker returned to the main room, he remembered something important as a shiver crawled up his spine. It was chilly! He rushed back to the room and climbed into the bed quickly to warm up.

A few minutes later, the redhead wandered back into the room casually.

"How did that just happen?" Undertaker asked amused and perplexed, realizing Grell had stolen his clothing and was carrying something in his arm. "Where did you disappear to?"

It turned out Grell was holding the urn full of heart-shaped cookies. "I hope you don't mind but I raided your pantry and this is the only recognizable item I could find in the dark," he explained and smiled as he viewed the mortician huddled underneath the blankets. He lay there on his side facing him with his elbow on the pillow and his head propped on his hand, all that silver hair swirling all around him.

Undertaker's stomach growled with perfect timing. "Bless your heart—bring them biscuits here and jump in bed," he urged with a soft twitter, patting the empty spot next to him happily.

Grell threw off the black garment and joined him, snuggling under the covers, rubbing his cold feet against Undertaker's warm tootsies. Together they devoured the cookies after working up such a fierce appetite and washed them down with their unfinished beakers of elderberry wine.

Undertaker gave the bedspread a good ruffle to throw the crumbs out before he held out an arm for Grell to come closer. The redhead blushed even after all they had done together and scooted in close, laying on his back with his head on the man's arm. Undertaker was watching Grell silently, using a nail to brush strands of red hair away from his face and glasses.

Grell shivered as the nail drew a line down his throat and along the middle of his chest idly. "Are you pretending to eviscerate me," he mused.

Undertaker smiled. "And have all your lovely insides come spilling out?" he murmured over a yawn. "Haven't I already told you I like them just where they are? Tsk."

The red reaper grinned at Undertaker's drowsy banter. "You sound so sleepy, darling."

Undertaker's hand stilled, resting on Grell's tummy as his eyes closed against his will. "Remember I told you I wanted to show you something? Check under your pillow… read where I left the bookmark. It's my favourite and I..."

Waiting for him to finish, Grell looked over at Undertaker but he was sound asleep. Ever so curious, Grell searched under his pillow until he felt something thin and hard. He released a small gasp when he realized it was the leather-bound journal from the coffin of roses. The one he had been reading earlier when he was snooping around.

Grell's face swiftly burned with chagrin.

He flashed a look at Undertaker to see if he was in trouble and that maybe this was just a trap, but the old shinigami was out cold, breathing evenly against Grell's ear. Grell suddenly had a feeling that something connected this journal to the roses in the coffin. He opened the journal with a flurry and read:

March 20, 1890

I keep obsessing over the roses for they are as close as I may ever get to the real thing. That fiery soul, his thirst for blood, the beautiful reapings—yet she is a lady all soft underneath it all. To touch such softness… Do you know that each time you leave, you take a piece of my heart with you? These roses don't provide any warmth, I cannot hold them, they do not make me laugh… they've only withered and died like everything else around me. Yet, I cannot toss them like rubbish, which would be akin to ripping out my weary old soul.

Oh, my! How dismal…Ha-ha! I sound like a poet—I'd be a great poet me thinks, undertaker by day and master poet by night. I would name my first poem, 'Grell', and I would write it on a thousand sheets of parchment and toss them from the highest tower along with all the roses in the coffin. Everyone would be scrambling as peasants do for coins to pick them up.

Oh, that would certainly be funny!

Grell read the page about a dozen times. And when he was finished that, he read all the other journal entries finally realizing that Undertaker was writing about him! All of this prose—it wasn't complete gibberish or madness. It was Undertaker's innermost thoughts.

Grell was stupefied.

When he finally lowered the journal to his chest, he simply stared over at the slumbering mortician in utter amazement. He stared at him for a long time knowing that somehow in some way he'd gained a piece of the ex-reaper's heart, for the man had fallen for him.

Never in all his years had anyone done anything so romantic for him. Nor had they ever shown so much appreciation. Eeee! Grell nibbled on his nails wanting so badly to crush Undertaker with sweet kisses and hugs. However, he thought the man had done enough for him for one night. Undertaker more than earned his beauty rest and Grell knew he would just have to wait.

Grell stuffed the journal back under the pillow and realized he was still lying on Undertaker's arm, even though the old reaper had shifted and was now lying on his back. He snuggled up against Undertaker's warm body and placed his head on his shoulder placing an arm across his chest.

"I accept your invitation," Grell cooed sweetly and was surprised when Undertaker wrapped his arms around him.

"That makes me happy…"

A few days later Undertaker was busy stitching up a bloody corpse whistling a merry tune as he did so when a letter came through the mail slot. "Oh bother," he muttered, seeing as his hands were filthy at the moment and yet his curiosity about the mail nagged at him like usual.

It could probably wait. "Yes, yes, it's just another useless advert of some sort."

But as he continued his work, trying to make this sad mangled human look presentable and pretty again, he leaned over to peer into the other room. The mail on the floor was indeed a letter and not an advert.

His curiosity had won.

"Sorry chap, but I think it's time for tea," Undertaker told his guest. He got up and washed his hands thoroughly before heading to the main room. Along the way, he stopped to sniff a vase full of fresh red roses. "You pretties are for my other pretty who promised to visit me later when he's done work, he-he!"

He continued to the main room and snatched up the letter, using his long nail to shear it open. It read:

Sir Undertaker,

I suppose I have no choice but to let you off the hook in regards to eating your hat. For whatever you have done to my employee, Grell Sutcliff, the Dispatch Management Division thanks you. I will forever be in your debt. Grell's duties are complete in nearly half the time they were before. You truly are a legend but please refrain from giving me any details on this accomplishment.

P.S. You can have that excitable moron any night you wish. As long as Grell's reports are filled, I won't have to reclaim him myself. Good day.

William

OUTTAKES!

I had a lot of extra content, stuff I was working with but decided for the greater good not to use them. But I thought it would be fun to share them with you. Maybe you'll get a chuckle lol! I never throw this stuff away until I'm finished a fic. It's great un-edited fun.

Undertaker giggled like a batty schoolboy.

Perplexed Undertaker replied, "I thought you knew how I felt, since you helped yourself to a little light reading earlier."

Batting his long lashes in query, Grell repeated, "A little light reading. What does that—" His words trailed off when Undertaker reached for something next to the oil lamp and held it up for Grell to see.

It was the black leather-bound diary with the red bookmark.

"Oh…" Grell muttered feebly, glancing away awkwardly. "Don't get upset, handsome. I only read two entries, I swear! It all sounded like crazy stuff… how is that supposed to have anything to do with us making out in a coffin?"

"Oops! Maybe I've jumped to far ahead. I thought you were accepting my desire because you feel the same as I do." The lovin' could wait. Right now, Undertaker had to laugh. "Too funny…!"

The laugh made Grell a bit nervous this time. "I'm not sure what you're getting at. Are you angry with me, darling? I didn't mean to use the word 'crazy'. I know I hate that word. You are 'interesting', yes, very interesting—you have a real way with words. I have no idea what you were even talking about in that journal."

Undertaker ceased his laughter. "May I read to you my favourite entry, my dear?"

Again, Grell was surprised by Undertaker's formal tone, even if he was still straddling his thighs like a hot tramp. "If you really want to, then I will give you my full attention."

"Oh, I think this one will get your attention," the old reaper professed. He read:

March 20, 1890

Oh, that would certainly be funny!

When Undertaker finished, he closed the book and pushed his hair back with a sniff. "Did you already read this one? I think if you did you would have understood my intentions."

"No, I did not read that one…" Grell murmured, still grasping the full weight of what Undertaker just said to him. "Do… do those roses in that coffin have something to do with me?"

He laughed goofily in awkwardness, unsure if Grell would storm out of here and never come back. That would indeed, make him very sad.

Grell laid his head back in the coffin, looking up at the ceiling.

Well, at least he's not screaming and crying, Undertaker blew out a puff of air. He-he.

"Is there anything else you want to share?" Grell pursued haughtily.

Undertaker pulled out the red bookmark and said nonchalantly, "I made this from pieces of your red coat." He started the mental countdown and plugged his ears.

Four. Three. Two. One…

"What…!" Grell shrieked and snatched the bookmark from Undertaker's fingers. "My beautiful coat has been ravaged! How did I not notice?"

Undertaker smiled reassuringly. "My dear, calm yourself, I didn't do any harm to your lovely coat. There were. Just how some items come with extra buttons, you see."

"So then my coat has no insurance left!" Grell was not at all pacified. He sniffed. "Then I will keep this bookmark."

Undertaker sighed. "If you insist then you may have it, my lady."

Grell made a strange face and wondered. "You're not just saying all this to have your nasty little way with me, are you?"

The old reaper lifted one brow and barked out a laugh. "I've certainly outgrown that kind of childish behaviour centuries ago. It's quite fine, I don't expect anything in return. Just know this… you're free to visit me anytime you like."

The red reaper shuffled over to the silver-haired troublemaker, who has found a completely new way to torture him, and dropped to his knees dramatically in front of the ex-reaper.

Oh? Undertaker looked down at Grell in question.

"I don't deserve such besotted treatment," Grell bemoaned, overwhelmed. "You don't have to give me this—I have received my part of the bargain. You've already given me much more than I could ever dream for. Don't do it out of pity!"

The Undertaker was stunned and a little insulted. "Pity…?" he scoffed and frowned. "My dear, I am quite sure I want to do this because I desire to. This has nothing to do with any kind of payment or 'bargain'. I have entertained this notion since the first time you came to visit me… on your own free will, that is. Fu-fu."

"Really…?" Grell looked up at the old reaper.

"Yes, really…" Undertaker chuckled and bent to haul Grell back up on his feet. "My, you're like a frightened new pet, wondering if his master will love him or kick and beat him."

"But you always let me leave…"

"Perhaps the evil master should be bitten by his unruly pet for his insensitivity." Undertaker smiled with a humbling shrug, his hands moving to the buttons on Grell's vest again. "I had to be sure of some things, you see."

Grell understood what Undertaker was trying to say. "You mean like nearly decapitating me with your Death Scythe earlier today. That wasn't an accident," Grell charged. "I get it… you don't trust me. And why should you?" The redhead sighed. "I was a bad girl."

"Indeed, you were and in many ways, still are," the old reaper alleged. "My, I see you figured me out. I guess the sneeze tale was a little weak, huh?"

Grell poked Undertaker in the chest with a finger. "Just a little, darling."

Undertaker laughed loudly, totally delighted.

"I guess I'm flattered you've given this so much thought since the first time I visited you," Grell mentioned.

"That's an understatement, but you shouldn't sound so surprised," Undertaker replied sarcastically more to himself than to Grell. He gasped and giggled again childishly, rocking his head from side to side, "Oops! Did I say that out loud?"

The red reaper scowled. "What do you mean by that? You keep saying how I should understand. Spill it! Or I might still throttle you, hot stuff or not." Grell warned, hands on his hips.

Undertaker looked a bit confused. "Hmm, I'm not sure anymore." He scoffed. "I'll try to explain in a bit," the old reaper told him, his silly laughter silent for now.

"Fair enough," Grell conceded, satisfied for now. "Just so you know there is one place in particular that I wish to bite the master."

The redhead laughed evilly.

"Mmm! I can't wait to find out where." The mortician chuckled, too.

The mortician knew a feisty creature like Grell would be near impossible to tame. On the other hand, he liked Grell just the way he was, crazy, unpredictable and wonderfully naughty. If such a travesty were to happen where he was tamed, everything that made him perfect, in Undertaker's eyes, would no longer exist.

"I really had no idea you thought of me in this way."

Grell's wicked mind went into overdrive when he thought of what those gorgeous eyes would look like on him… while bedding the Undertaker. He swallowed hard and his cock gave a heavy twitch. Oh! If he had known Undertaker was a veiled perv all this time, he would have tried to jump his bones sooner!

Undertaker leaned down to bury his nose into the crook of Grell's neck, inhaling the redheads' charming scent. It brought a trill giggle out of Grell, much to his delight and he added softly next to his ear, "You have a reckless soul much like my own and you do not conform completely to the pompous rules of my past profession. In fact you break them so often," Undertaker said with amusement. "I admire such strength and your unrestricted vitality. I beg that you never change."

Grell felt the mortician grinning shrewdly against his neck. "Just for tonight…?" he wondered.

"I would ask for many nights, my dear, but I shan't get greedy." Undertaker pledged.

"What is it that you wish to give me first?" he wondered.

"Tee-hee… a bath," Undertaker replied goofily.

The firm throb Grell's cock gave was felt between both reapers.

Undertaker's grin was menacing. "I see you would like that as much as me."

"You drive a hard bargain, darling. And after that, what other kind of needs do you think I want?" Grell wondered recklessly, greatly enjoying this foreplay.

Undertaker spoke darkly, "The kind that makes you screeeam… with delight, of course."

For a moment Grell thought he would die right there of blood loss from his nose. "Mmm, that's like sweet music to my ears, let the symphony play." He twirled some the mortician's hair around his finger. "…call me 'pretty reaper' again, sugar, and you can do whatever you want." He felt Undertaker's grin grow even wider against his skin.

FIN