Gregory opens the door to those empty black eyes. They look annoyed, like the man they belong to doesn't want to be there, but they also look desperate... hungry. It's Damien and everything around him has fallen into shadow. All Gregory can see is the pale illuminating skin on his face. He doesn't close the door but stays staring.

Damien pushes him backwards, stepping across the line into his apartment. Gregory doesn't stop him, nor does he stop the kiss that finds its way to his lips. He merely kisses back and pulls on Damien's shirt, groaning.

Damien takes control, lifting Gregory up by the hips effortlessly, and then laying him down on a bed that appears in the centre of the room. The buttons on his shirt pop open one by one, until the material seems to melt away from his torso. Damien's shirt has disappeared too and he pulls open Gregory's trousers.

Gregory groans and kicks out his legs, letting Damien remove everything until it's all gone and they're both naked with Damien grinding down on top of him. No words. They need no words. They only groan and pull closer to each other.

Gregory's skin is glistening with sweat. He can feel Damien sucking at it, his tongue hot and powerful, moving everywhere, until almost every inch of Gregory is wet in some way. Gregory runs his hands over Damien's back the whole time this is happening, squeezing and caressing his ass but never quite managing to get his fingers where he wants them to go. His hands keep slipping back up to Damien's shoulders.

As hard as he tries, he can't grip keep his hands on Damien's ass, and their actions won't progress. Damien just keeps attacking his skin, kissing turning to sucking turning to biting. It hurts but it feels so good. Gregory knows he'll be covered in bruises.

It keeps getting hotter and hotter and it won't stop. There's no end, just this uncontrollable pleasure and pain which consumes all his senses, threatens his heart may collapse from how fast it's beating, that he may run out of breath in any kiss.

Damien's killing him.

Gregory shot awake and screamed, throwing the duvet from him. His forehead and chest were dripping with sweat and his hair clung to his face. He stared at his alarm clock - 6:00. He groaned and lay down again, staring at his ceiling. He'd had barely any hours sleep that night, and in finally managing to get to sleep he'd had that dream.

He tried to ignore it, not read into it, pretend he couldn't feel the aching in his hard dick...

He heard the door open and for some stupid, unexplainable reason, hoped it was Damien. It wasn't of course; it was Christophe.

Christophe glanced around the room in panic. "What's wrong? I 'eard a scream?" He walked over to Gregory and sat down on the bed. Gregory flinched. "Are you alright? You're sweating. You're-" He paused as his eyes drifted to Gregory's hard-on. He stared for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. "What? Deed you 'av a sexual dream and zen get scared by eet?"

Gregory blushed and nudged Christophe with his foot. "Get out." He did not want Christophe's input on this moment.

"Oh you deed!" Christophe grinned in Gregory's face.

"Out."

"Do you not want me to sort eet out for you?" Christophe purred, running his hand up Gregory's leg and letting it reach his thigh. "You know I'm very good..."

"N-No, I can do it myself. Shoo." He was only saying no because of who in his mind had caused the boner to occur. Having Tophe touching it would have just been too weird.

Christophe sighed and stood up. "Okay zen eef you're going to be all embarrassed and beetchy about eet. Eet's a shame zough..." He laughed again as he left Gregory's room and closed the door behind him.

Gregory immediately reached out and under his elastic waistband for his still-throbbing erection. He wondered how it hadn't gone down at all since he'd woken up, but as he started pumping he knew it was because he was thinking of Damien. It was because as he began to move his hand rhythmically up and down, all he saw were Damien's eyes and the way they had burned into him in his dream. He could almost taste his skin, breathe his scent. It was as if Damien's arms and body were closing down on him.

He threw his head back into the pillow and groaned.

He'd probably feel guilty about it later but all guilt was nowhere to be found as he moved his hand faster and groaned louder, imagining that it was Damien's hand closing around him, Damien's hot panting mixing with his own. His smooth voice gruffly whispering into his ears.

"Is this a thrill for you, Blondie? I want to fuck you hard."

Gregory wanted to scream back that he wanted Damien to. He wanted to scream Damien's name and have this all be real, not just him alone with his twisted thoughts, masturbating over the dangerous manwho watched him fight in the shadows, not caring that he was moments away from death; the man he wanted to hate passionately for all he had done but knew his feelings were so much more complex.

This man, and everything that was wrong with him, was what made Gregory come with a choked groan of ecstasy.

Christophe was standing by the bathroom door with a wide grin on his face when Gregory emerged from his bedroom. His eyes followed Gregory as he was pushed out of the way.

"Does zat feel better, mon ami?"

Gregory sighed and rolled his eyes. "Much."

"Your groans were very loud and so urgent..." Gregory washed his hands and tried to block Christophe out. He always got so perverted over sexual matters, not at all afraid to discuss them. Gregory really didn't want to hear it. "Zat's eet... wash away ze sin."

"Shut up, Tophe." Gregory glanced over his shoulder. "It's really not a big deal."

"Catching you wiz a boner over something? Yes, eet ees. I 'ardly ever get ze chance to tease you." Christophe stepped closer to Gregory and brushed a hand along his waist. "Tell me, what were you dreaming about?"

"I... I can't remember."

"Sure. Whatever you say." Christophe wrapped his arms around Gregory's waist and ran a kiss along his jaw. This action wouldn't have usually bothered Gregory in the slightest if it hadn't been for Damien's similar behaviour only a couple of days before. He felt his face heating up and hastily pushed Christophe away.

"I need the toilet." He looked down and pushed his friend from the room. Luckily he was commanding enough to pull this off without Christophe getting suspicion. The Frenchman just laughed from the other side of the wood.

"D'accord. I'll make breakfast so don't be too long." He sniggered. "And try to control yourself from jacking off again."

It was much later in the uneventful day that Gregory was watching the news.

"A volcano erupted in Southern Japan today, sending rocks up to five kilometres in the air, and lava down its slopes. Locals also reported loud thunder and a heavy ash cloud. Thousands of people have had to evacuate the area and are seeking refuge at an emergency shelter nearby. Experts are in a state of confusion by the occurrence as the volcano was believed to be extinct. They do not know when the eruption will stop. Geologist S. Chaplin had this to say: 'It's all wrong. This is not possible. I see no evidence to suggest that it's even cooling. We cannot explain the impossibility of this situation. I'm sorry. This is all wrong.'" The news reporter looked terrified herself at reading this. "People around the world are calling it an act of God, claiming he is angry." She stared for a few moments blankly at the camera.

Christophe grunted, muttering "Zat faggot," under his breath. Gregory sighed, only half-concentrating on the depressing news and half-wondering what he could cook to curb his hunger. They never reported happy things, just more natural disasters that seemed to be occurring more frequently. It wasn't long since an earthquake struck that area of Japan. The next report regained his interest though.

"In local news South Park resident Jack Mendez was found dead last night in an alleyway in Denver. Two other men by the names of Ryan Cox and Daniel Fisher were also found dead at the scene. The victims appear to have suffered a combination of lethal blows to the head and stab wounds. There were no eye-witnesses to the crime and Police are struggling to find a lead."

Gregory smirked. He wondered how long it had taken people to find them. Had they been found in the night, or had they hopefully been left for a while? Christophe looked over from the armchair and connected eyes with his friend. Gregory tried to fake a straight face and innocence, but it was too late, he'd been busted.

"Zat fight you had last night..." Christophe raised an eyebrow. "Where were you between ze hours of ten and two?"

Gregory smacked his lips together. "Oops."

Christophe rolled his eyes. "I'll probably 'av to dig zeir graves."

"Well there you go, I'm giving you work." Gregory smiled cheerily at Christophe, who raised his eyebrows, expecting more of an explanation. "They were trying to kill me!"

Christophe shot up then, his idea of what had taken place changed. He clenched his fist and moved to sit beside Gregory. "Kill you?"

"Jack was Wendy's guy. He had some grudge against me about dating her."

Christophe narrowed his eyes. "Zat eesn't a reason to keel you zough ees eet?" He looked worried, beginning to zone out, concentration passed over his face. He was surely weighing up something. After a minute of silence Christophe added, "You should probably offer your sympathies to Wendy, see eef she needs anything..."

"There's an idea, Tophe," started Gregory sarcastically. "Hey, Wendy sorry to hear your boyfriend died, even though he was an absolute prick and tried to take my life. Oh yeah, and one more thing, I'm the one that killed him. Stop crying. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Christophe sighed. "Surely you could act like you cared. You're very good at faking emotions like zat."

Gregory folded his arms defiantly. "Well maybe I don't want to."

"Fine, I'll do eet for ze both of us."

"Why do you care so much?" It wasn't like Christophe to think of matters like that. It was always Gregory's job to remember the personal thing. He was the one who always prodded Christophe into acting politely in public and obeying the basic social norms. The Frenchman had a tendency to avoid them.

"I just think we should keep up appearances."

"You're right, have fun with Wendy then." And with that Gregory stalked into his room and slammed his door.

Christophe stared after him, pulling a cigarette from his top pocket and lighting it up. He was concerned. There was something really not right with Gregory. He didn't think it would be purely from having killed the previous night. Gregory was so used to it that his heart rate hardly rose after a gunshot anymore. He was concerned at exactly what, or rather, who Gregory could have met. He worried; Gregory really didn't know what to expect. He grunted, cursing under his breath and walked towards the kitchen deciding he'd make something like omelettes or pancakes for the both of them.

...People around the world are calling it an act of God, claiming he is angry.

Why did he get all the credit?

In local news South Park resident Jack Mendez was found dead last night in an alleyway in Denver...

Damien frowned and turned off the television. He stared at it blankly for a long time after.

After dinner had been eaten and Gregory and Christophe had broken their tension with food and a forced hug by the Frenchman (who knew that Gregory appreciated the physical contact even if he was in too much of a mood to accept it), Gregory proclaimed that he was leaving for a short walk. Christophe didn't argue. Gregory wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve but it had to be better than sitting around and doing nothing. When the curious side of him itched he just had to scratch it and if the itch was in an awkward position then he wasn't scared to scratch it with his sword. He'd left his sword still hung up in his bedroom though; Christophe wasn't a fool, he was sure to check.

Gregory wasn't a fool either. He knew too well that tonight was only observation. He didn't even know where Damien lived; the night was about finding that out.

Hacking into the town's records proved useless. Damien was on no files. There was no information about newly bought houses. There were no banking information or police records. There was nothing. Gregory was stumped; there was no way of finding his address the fast way. So he was going to spy through windows, pose as a door-to-door salesman on the houses he couldn't spy people in, or whatever took his fancy when he saw who opened the door and hope that either he could gain information from residents or that perhaps one of them would be Damien... It wasn't the usual type of plan he came up with, but it was the only one he had.

Most of the houses were easy enough to see into. He saw families watching TV, arguing, playing games, all the typical stuff he never had. He saw couples cuddled up, kissing or worse. He observed as an elderly couple gathered provisions to take upstairs, helping each other to bed. He smiled and wondered if he'd ever grow old with anyone special. Would he ever find someone or would it always be him and Christophe and their odd friendship? Though Christophe was bound to fall in love with someone at some point. Another name came into his head but he curbed it instantly; nothing good would come from think it.

He'd knocked on some of the doors and most people had shut the door on his almost instantly when they saw what they perceived as a salesman. That was fine; he didn't want to waste time talking. One woman had kept him talking a while because she was obviously completely struck with his looks and he'd refrained from being blunt with her, as Christophe had said, he needed to keep up appearances and not make anymore enemies.

There was one house he knocked on that changed everything. "Hello, I'm..." Gregory stopped as he saw the man who had opened the door. "Oh, Stanley." So he'd inadvertently discovered Stan's house. It must have been his own house too, because Gregory was in the area of cheaper houses by that point, the ones that even young people could afford having. He guessed that's why he'd never seen Stan around the apartment complex.

"Gregory?" Stan glanced his eyes down to the bag Gregory held in front of him and then up to Gregory's black-eye. "What do you want?"

"Wrong house," Gregory said, narrowing his eyes. He was not in the mood to deal with the asshole. He turned to walk away without another word.

"What house were you looking for?" asked Stan. Gregory halted and turned back around. "I don't want you running around terrorizing the neighbourhood with whatever's in that bag." He connected eyes with Gregory knowingly. "We don't want any more deaths do we?"

Gregory's poker face gave nothing away but inside his head he was screaming. "Meaning?"

Stan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. Gregory hated him even more. Why did this bastard have to be one of only people in South Park who was never scared of him and liked to play at building their hatred for one another? Gregory just wanted to find Damien. "I'm sure you've heard that Wendy's boyfriend was found dead last night in Denver."

"Yes." Gregory smirked cruelly. "I bet you're really happy about it. You have your chance to comfort Wendy through her ordeal; maybe she'll find love with you again?" He wasn't sure where exactly the callous words came from. He didn't appreciate the sneer that had come into his own voice. Starting anything with Stan was not going to help him find Damien.

"Don't turn this on me." Stan leaned forward and whispered, "I saw you steal a car and drive to Denver. And that eye seems like too much of a coincidence."

Well fuck that did it. But what could Stan do anyway? He had no evidence and even if Gregory had been in Denver it didn't mean he'd murdered someone; that wasn't the only reason people went there. Gregory had the strange feeling that Stan wouldn't turn him in anyway. He got the feeling that Stan had hated Jack as much as he had. He hated to admit it but he'd be much happier to see Wendy back with the mechanic in front of him (he'd had a spy on Stan's records when he was searching for Damien) than that bastard. And Wendy was going to need someone to look after her.

Gregory grinned playfully. "Spying on me were you." He leaned forward seductively. "Why is that, Stan? Miss me when I left? Miss my body?"

"Fuck you, Gregory."

"Oh, clearly." He looked Stan up and down. "Perhaps I'll take you up on your offer."

Stan scowled. "I'm shutting the door now."

"Wait." Gregory shot his foot out to stop the door closing, causing Stan to growl in annoyance. "I'm expecting someone new to move to South Park, I don't suppose you've had any new neighbours... or neighbours who have moved back?"

Stan sighed and thought for a moment. "Someone's just moved back into the house at the bottom of the street." Stan pointed in the direction. "There was no for sale sign and they didn't have a mover's truck, but the light's on in that house sometimes." He smirked at Gregory. "Don't scare them away." And then he slammed the door shut. Well, he could be a dick, but Marsh was actually helpful for once in his life.

Gregory went down to the bottom house for a quick look. The living room light was on. He could see from far away the black hair and black clothes of Damien. He knew without seeing the face that it was him. He turned for home, pulling his coat tighter around him at the frosty bite in the air. It was late and he needed to get back to the apartment or Christophe was sure to chew his head off about what a 'short walk' was.

Gregory froze slightly when he walked back in, hung up his coat, kicked off his shoes, and saw Christophe. His body language had already been rigid and he'd felt would up, but now he was also shocked.

Christophe wasn't wearing a top. His taught, defined muscles were on full show and gleaming with light sweat. He must have been doing press ups, abdominal exercises or something. He looked hot. He spied Gregory and smiled, then frowned as Gregory didn't move. "Mon ami, you seem tense."

Gregory stared at Christophe's chest and bit his lip. The sweat on the chest reminded him of his dream too much to be ignored. Could he just allow himself a distraction... just for a little while? After the events of the day, surely he was entitled to a little treat.

"Mmmm."

"Would you like me to put a shirt on?" asked Christophe cautiously. He was used to not worrying about such immaterial things when they were holding up in motels and chasing targets across the country, but in the apartment, with Gregory, he was regaining the importance of proper hygiene and decency.

Gregory's eyes fell down further to his friend's crotch. A glint came to his eye and a slight smile to his lips. He sighed theatrically and trailed his eyes up the chest to gaze into Christophe's eyes. "No, I want you to take your pants off."

Christophe smirked. "Gregory, are you asking me for sex?"

"Are you complaining?" Gregory slipped his fingers into his top fastened buttonhole and slowly undid it. "Or do I have to take you by force?"

To show that he wasn't complaining Christophe shot over to where Gregory was standing and helped him out with quick fingers. Gregory groaned, he wasn't sure why he'd made it happen but it was sure as hell a good distraction.

He grabbed Christophe by the belt and pulled him towards the Frenchman's bedroom, purely because it was the nearest one, and God knows Gregory couldn't walk far. Christophe bent forward, attaching his lips to Gregory's and kissing desperately. He was always the first to initiate the kissing, and though Gregory hated to think on it or admit it, Christophe always seemed more eager to do it.

Gregory pulled Christophe down onto the messy bed, falling on his back and letting Christophe press down on him. He wrapped his legs around Christophe's lower body and groaned, still kissing desperately. He felt the last button on his shirt open and sat up so it could be pulled off him. He helped Christophe dispose of the rest of their clothes until they were very quickly and very desperately naked.

Their lips attached again and skin met, tanned on pale, fiercely muscular on subtly defined. Bodies slid against each other, crotches grinding. Gregory felt Christophe more than he saw him but in his mind they were both already dishevelled; hair ruffled and cheeks flushed.

Christophe panted, grinding against Gregory vigorously, pushing their members together and shuddering from the pleasure of the friction. He gasped and kissed along the blond's shoulder, sucking on the skin which showed the faintness traces of the sweat to come. Gregory ground back, bucking his hips up and running his hands up and down Christophe's back, pulling and holding him closer.

"S-So how are we doing zis?" murmured Christophe between licks of Gregory's skin.

Gregory pulled Christophe's hair up and forced them to link eyes. "I want you to fuck me, and fuck me hard."

Christophe groaned at the words, his eyes glazing with lust. "Really?"

"Yes." Gregory pulled Christophe's mouth back towards his to reinforce this, kissing frantically. All over, his skin felt hot, like he was sweltering in the nonexistent heat. It felt like every inch of his skin was covered in sweat whereas only a little actually was.

Christophe leaned over to his draw to get the supplies he needed. Gregory made this as hard as possible, pulling on Christophe's shoulders and arching his neck up to suck any skin he could find - skin that was getting sticky and only making him more desperate. Christophe chuckled through pleasured groans.

"I need to get ze condom and lube!" he mumbled.

Gregory pulled Christophe away. "N-No." He dug his nails into Christophe's arm. "N-No condom. It f-feels better without." They'd always been careful with other people so he was confident there was no problem and he really didn't want any barriers.

"Okay!" There was an edge of excitement in Christophe's voice. He kissed Gregory again before successfully reaching over to get the lube. "You at least want zis?"

"If you must." Gregory bit his lip. "Yes, actually, of course... It will help you move faster."

Christophe chuckled. "And cause you less pain." He said it like it was a good thing but Gregory wasn't convinced. It was as if he wanted the pain, though he realised that the damage that could cause wasn't worth it.

Gregory lay with his legs open on the bed as he waited for Christophe to re-position himself. He wanted to make himself look as alluring to Christophe as he could, by looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and stroking his chest absently. But it seemed Christophe was already completely aroused and Gregory felt like there was no one his friend would have preferred doing it with, like he drew so much pleasure just from being with Gregory.

Gregory gasped when he felt the head of Christophe's member press against his entrance. He gripped Christophe's shoulders again and nodded, squeezing tight. The pleasure came so reassuringly quickly, in a wave of relief and satisfaction soaking into Gregory's longing. From around his body, areas called for their share of it, pulled the pleasure towards them and intensified it as if everything depended on Gregory feeling in ecstasy. With each movement Christophe made, more parts clawed from the inside and felt their reward.

But it wasn't enough.

"Tophe," Gregory groaned through heavy breaths. "Feels good." He groaned again. "Harder!"

Christophe choked out a groan, perhaps even more desperate than Gregory's and complied by moving his hips faster, and pushing in deeper. In this position, he was hitting Gregory's prostate, delivering thrusts that sent pulses. It felt amazing, but didn't have the raw burning Gregory was desiring - a burning impossible for any mortal to deliver. The desire felt foreign and yet is was there, a yearning planted without warning, too confusing for Gregory to register properly.

"Harder! I want to feel the burn!" He raked at Christophe's skin furiously, knowing it was an impossible order but not caring. Christophe could have been anyone at that moment; it didn't matter. Gregory knew no one could fill the void or complete the request.

"G-Gregory, I can't," gasped Christophe. "I - I'd hurt you too much."

"Urghhh." Gregory grit his teeth and arched against Christophe, taking in the already incredibly rough pace. He groaned and opened his mouth when Christophe's lips pushed another kiss on his. He knew Christophe was going as hard as he could, and that was way more than anyone could ask.

He panted when Christophe's lips drew away and down to his neck. "It feels good! So good." And it did. It felt amazing when he allowed himself to appreciate it rather than pining after pain.

Christophe was a sweaty and gasping mess as he continued his thrusting, and Gregory could feel when the Frenchman was reaching his edge, thrusts becoming and he groaned loudly, opening his mouth to form his words. He knew Christophe loved it when he talked dirty.

"Tophe, yes!" he panted. "I w-want you to come all over me!" He closed his eyes and listened to Christophe's groans, which really were beautiful to listen to.

"Fuck, Gregory!" A few moments later, Christophe withdrew sharply and Gregory could feel the warm come falling over his stomach. He groaned loudly as Christophe's hand wrapped around his length, pumping until Gregory came too, covering himself even more.

"Fuck."

"Mmmm."

Christophe panted and rolled, collapsing onto the bed next to Gregory, the sheets rustling around him. Gregory looked over at him and smiled, also panting. Christophe - with flushed cheeks and ruffled hair so perfect on his head that it almost looked styled so - grinned back and closed his eyes in exhaustion, burying his head into a pillow.

"You can stay 'ere," he muttered. "Just... keep your feet away."

Gregory rolled his eyes and looked down at himself, frowning. "I want to clean up, so I'll just go."

"Nooooo." Christophe moaned and fumbled by his bedside, then to the floor, eventually throwing a shirt at Gregory. Gregory used it to clean himself with and then without a care, threw it to Christophe's already cluttered floor. Christophe stared tiredly at him. "You can put your feet all over me. Stay?"

Gregory nodded. "I'll stay." He was too tired to notice the urgency in Christophe's voice. He settled down next to the Frenchman and closed his eyes, falling to sleep almost instantly in his exhaustion.

"Zat's good, mon amour," whispered Christophe, reaching to stroke a sweat-formed curl on Gregory's forehead, before sighing and closing his eyes.