Reven held himself back with some effort - part of his conscious mind told him it was Lain whose face suddenly appeared in front of him, demanding his attention in some way. But his subconscious mind cried out with anger, and made his fist clench at his side, as if to hurl the intruder away. His attention was deep inside the emotion of the picture - deep, and painfully entrenched. Anything else was unexpected - a potential threat.

But Lain's voice called to him. It sounded worried. Something tugged at Reven's emotions, dragging him back into the present time. Some gentle, clean, young smell - some soft, tentative whisper at his ear. It was welcome enough to draw his mind back from the brink. His eyes focused back on the youth in front of him - he felt his breath begin to settle, his heartbeat to slow. But still he clutched the picture, and now he saw Lain's eyes flicker back to it.

What the fuck can the boy have thought of that?

"I can't tell you when this was done - or exactly what it means, Lain," he said, slowly. What could he explain? "My - my partner Inoue - he must have drawn it. But I never knew. I never knew about any of them. This one - this one is very different, though."

He looked again at it, trying to keep objectivity. But he could see some of the faces as far more than lines sketched on paper - hear the voices - smell the fear. "I can see Chad here - he was my - I worked for him when I met Inoue." His inner voice smirked at his careful editing - it began its own commentary, as if forcing Reven to face what he'd left buried for some time. He was my pimp. I killed him. Inoue taught me how.

"And there are people who had threatened Inoue - who had harmed him in the past." He killed them. Efficiently - swiftly. Destroyed them - blood and broken limbs on the floor of the apartment we shared. They'd come for an incriminating photograph that I'd stolen from Chad. They came for that - and for me.

"And others…" He ran his fingers over some of the lines, tracing the memories. "Some I killed - some we both did. It was our job. Sometimes less palatable than others." Some jobs I hated - I never had the coldness that Inoue did. The ruthlessness. I was weak sometimes, even though he'd tried to beat it out of me over the years.

I sometimes let thoughts in - thoughts of who the people may be; what they'd leave behind when I killed them. There was no room for that, and Inoue knew it. He looked into Lain's eyes, but his vision strayed far beyond. Was that what Inoue had been illustrating? Had it been his disappointment of Reven?

"The cuffs…" Reven didn't realise that Lain had spoken, but he knew it wasn't his own voice. The boy's eyes were wide and damp; Reven realised that his hand was shaking, and Lain had put his own palm over it, trying to comfort it. "What do they mean, Reven?"

"I - don't know why he drew those. They were his, Lain. But not Inoue's. Ahhh - I can't explain it to you!" How could he? How could he explain the bizarre horror of the two personalities that he'd shared his life with? Inoue and Eiji? The cuffs were Eiji's - but the skill in the picture was Inoue's. He'd loved them both - striven to be right for both of them. Lost both of them. "He'd been captive once - he'd suffered terribly. But he came back to me." He spoke down to the picture, no longer to Lain. "I would have taken them off him. I wanted to. I wanted to do so much more…"

And in that instant, as he stared again at the hands drawn on his shoulders, he felt them. He felt the harsh calluses on Inoue's fingers - the timid need in Eiji's grip. He felt the cold metal of the cuffs, and the warm flesh of his dead lover's body against his own.

The picture fell from his fingers and fluttered to the floor.

Lain’s lower lip trembled as he saw Reven’s do the same. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded softly, unsure whether he was speaking to himself or to Reven. “Please don’t cry.”

He took the book and papers off the man’s lap and dropped them on the floor—the images of Reven settled gently, carpeting the area before the couch and covering up any sign of that one image that haunted. The book itself remained open, the pages parted to display the clothing of gypsies from old days.

Small, gentle fingers brushed over Reven’s lips and cheeks, and Lain’s thumbs smoothed under the man’s eyes, drying the dampness there with an encouraging smile. If Reven cried, Lain would cry for sure; he couldn’t help it! Seeing such pain borne before him, such agony, such loneliness…

He wanted to steal it all away and keep it himself, so Reven could be happy. And so, he smiled, and kissed Reven’s lips softly, over and over, slower each time.

Finally, once the dark haired man seemed to have calmed down, Lain sat back and released Reven’s face from his hands, still smiling bravely, still staring up at him with an endearing gaze. He would be strong enough for the both of them; he would be the one to hold Reven and smile for him when he needed just that.

There was nothing he could say to try to console his host for the loss that pained him so thoroughly, so deeply; all he could do was love silently. It was all he knew.

Lain brushed his lips along Reven’s cheek, then let his face slide further until it was buried in thick black curls, nuzzling the man’s slender neck and wrapping his arms around them, trying to warm the chilled skin.

Reven was surprised at Lain’s words. Was he crying? Was that what the pain in his throat was – the tightening of the nerves on his face? He was disappointed with himself, allowing such weakness!

Inoue would have been disappointed, too.

Reven struggled with the conflicting feelings. He let the boy stroke his skin – let him kiss him until the only thing he could really concentrate on was the touch of the gentle, relentless lips.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand Lain’s care of him – the unselfish gifting of himself. Yes, he’d taken the boy in and was keeping him fed and clothed for the moment – but Lain’s devotion to him was more than the gratitude he would have expected. Especially from a bright youth who presumably had his own life to lead – who had had other loyalties when Reven first met him.

Not that he didn’t welcome it. He’d resisted Lain’s presence at first – but now his company comforted him in a very singular way.

Reven felt ridiculously tired – he knew he needed to pull himself together. What the fuck am I doing with this kid? he mused. How successful have I been with personal relationships?

He put a hand tentatively to Lain’s brunette head, nestling him in further against his shoulder. The boy’s body shivered with pleasure, and he pressed even more closely to Reven, like he’d been given further sanction. Reven sighed.

Whatever shock he’d received from Inoue’s drawings, there was no mileage in brooding on it. It was all in the past, because that’s where Inoue was. The pain was in the present – the grief would always be there. But he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it, could he? He’d collect up those drawings and put them safely away – he owed it to Inoue to treasure these mysterious messages that the red-haired man himself had thought valuable enough to keep.

He moved to release Lain and to get to his feet but the boy stiffened on his lap. Reven felt irritation rise up in him – he was still a little disorientated from the whole scene. He didn’t need Lain turning into a clinging vine on him –

But he realised quickly that Lain wasn’t clinging for attention. The boy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide again, but wary now. His head tipped slightly to the side; his mouth parted slightly. His focus drifted away from Reven; his expression darted from a sudden, flushed pleasure to a white fearfulness.

The images and ideas had been swirling through Lain’s mind pleasantly… but had quickly turned dark. His sixth sense about others began to work overtime in his head, sprouting from innocent thoughts.

I love Reven. I want to protect him. I protected him in the restaurant… Those men will be looking for us.

There’s only one person that knows where we are, though…

And it was strange how nice he was-- plus he left as soon as he got what he wanted. Could doing that to Reven have been his revenge, somehow? But Sphynx
never leaves it at something so simple; when he gets vengeance he takes the whole arm, not just a finger…

And he’s been too nice lately. Too quiet.

This is what he’s like around those he’s about to swoop down upon and take out; this is the way he treats his prey.

From there, the images in his mind grew worse, and he paled as he pulled back and his lips parted. Sphynx has probably been seeking a way to take Reven out, and he’s probably had his chance now! He always knows the rumours on the street, and if he wanted, he could sell the information easily!

The thugs are probably on their way to get us right now...!

Lain had no idea why he felt this way—why he felt he knew Sphynx was feeling such murderous wrath. What would have been the exact point at which his favourite blonde’s heart had sourer towards Lain’s lover?

Was it because he thought Lain had been stolen from him, or maybe because of the way he’d been humiliated their first time in this apartment…? One way or the other, he was almost certain he was right.

His head hurt.

And then he blurted out his declaration to Reven’s face. “He’s coming!” he whispered in a hiss. “He’s bringing them here!”

Lain stood immediately, getting to his feet rigidly and pulling Reven off the couch. “We have to leave, we have to… have to prepare! Have to do something! Sphynx never leaves things to chance! He’s probably got the whole building staked out, and he knows every part of your apartment… I bet he’s just been waiting for an opportunity like this! The men, they’re stupid, stupid perfect timing for him… he could easily have come here alone or with a few friends, but relying on somebody who would already want to hurt you, Reven, would be such a fine opportunity for him! Oh gods, I made such mistakes with all this! I shouldn’t have… and then I… oh, shit, shit, shit! Look what I’ve done! I’ve done it again!”

For some reason, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs—he felt like he was being choked. Lain took heavy breaths, inhaling deeply and unable to really exhale it all, his throat groaning as he tried to suck in more air, his fists clenching. “Again, I’ve messed everything up! It’s all my fault, I just wanted to help…!” he rasped out, shuddering, watching the floor at his feet seem to waver, feeling his knees buckle.

“Reven, I’m so sorry! We need to… we need weapons! And somewhere to hide!”

Lain shuddered again as memories of hiding in the closet came back to him, hearing Aniki’s weeping, so soft and broken… seeing Aniki walk back to his own room slowly, blood dripping from his face and arms where he’d been hit and cut.

He could see the person walking down the hall as in his mind as Reven now, hear Reven’s weeping, see blood trickling along his cheek and down his jaw like a crimson tear…

Lain’s eyes went wide, then narrowed as he pushed the thoughts away and calmed his breathing, releasing his fists and turning his mouth down into a hard line. He looked around the room with a calculating gaze and then back to Reven. “Where do you keep the knives?” he asked, his voice low and expression composed.

Jesus... Reven caught the waves of shock and panic from the boy and it was all he could do to hold back from grabbing him, and trying to slap it out of him. But Lain had calmed himself, it seemed.

"Hey..." he said, pitching his voice lower until he could see that Lain was truly more composed. "There are no knives for you here, do you hear me?" Lain's pupils were seriously dilated; his breathing still too fast for Reven's liking.

Had the boy heard something? Had he received some kind of message? Reven knew there'd been no post - no telephone call. Was this another example of Lain's strange intuition? Reven was inclined to be sceptical - but hadn't the boy been right before?

Hadn't he shown himself to be unusually perceptive? He helped save my life in the restaurant, thought Reven. He saw the danger even before I did, in a way.

It was also the first time Lain had mentioned Sphynx for a long time - but Reven felt the familiar shiver of warning across the back of his neck at the sound of the name. He'd believe anything of that rat - even that he might be a serious threat of some kind to Reven himself. Laughable really! Sphynx was just a kid too.

Reven turned Lain gently to face him. He decided to treat the boy's fear with seriousness. It was out of respect for Lain - but also, who knew what he might really be in touch with...

"Is the danger now, Lain? Or some time away? We need to know, you see - to make our preparations."

Lain was trying to focus on him - there was a panic in his eyes and he gripped at Reven's arm as if to keep him safe with his own body. He shook his head, slightly.

"OK." Reven took a deep breath. "Then rest. Both of us will. Let me think things through - prepare ourselves." This is my speciality, Lain, he thought, wryly. This is what I do best. "Lay down here for a while and calm yourself. It'll be OK. We'll be OK."

He lay Lain down on the couch and made his own way to his bedroom. His thoughts were wary and startled - he was unsure how much to trust Lain's worries. The boy had plenty of issues in his own mind at any time. Who knew what was real, and what might be his young imagination -?

He thought he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, but knew it was only Lain. Just settling, he supposed. Just going to the kitchen for a glass of water or something...

Reven walked on into his room to take some private time. And to think.

His worries, though acknowledged, had been rejected to some degree.

That would not do.

Lain would not stand by and let things go wrong. He would prevent Reven from getting hurt, and he would stop Sphynx before anything serious happened. He would fuck that boy like he's never been fucked before, just to assure Sphynx that he was still wanted.

Cobalt eyes skimmed over the kitchen, and when he found what he was looking for, he approached the knife set on the counter in a carved wooden block. Pulling out each one silently to examine the blades, he selected two of the knives.

One was long and thick at the base but came to a pointed tip, heavily serrated and good for cutting deep into flesh, about 8 inches long. The other was, quite simply, a cleaver-- the point of that was obvious.

He walked back to the couch where he had been dismissed for the night and deposited his knives momentarily; it was rather good for his plans that Reven had stationed him here.

Here, he was right in front of the door; here he would be the first in the line of fire and would take out any and every threat before Reven could so much as get out of his bed.

But first...

Lain's lips pulled back into a sinister smile as he approached the bedroom where Reven was already on his bed, lying on his back. "Take the clothes off," he said, his voice dark and commanding. At the same time, Lain pulled the baggy shirt he wore off of his sleek frame, and he hooked his thumb into his belt calmly, staring at the dark haired man with obvious intent.

This Lain, the Lain he was right now, didn't come out often, and when he did, it was usually to strike at whatever was hurting him and then retreat.

But this Lain wasn't going to or able to draw back into himself and allow happy, loving Lain to return-- not until the attack he knew was coming was finished.

Then he could sleep well, then he could relax.

But it wasn't going to happen immediately, of that he was sure... nobody would be damn stupid enough to try and take out an assassin and his toy in the middle of the day.

So, he had time to do as he pleased while he was this Lain.

And he would do as he pleased, he assured himself, his mouth still set in the hard, downcast line and his eyes still calculating.

Reven hitched himself up on his elbows, startled. He opened his mouth to speak sharply to Lain - then he thought better of it. His eyes narrowed.

There was a look in the cobalt eyes that met his - something quite unusual. Something that reminded him of a strong, intractable spirit; an indomitable will. A demanding, aggressive look - his whole body shuddered involuntarily at the reactions it provoked in him.

Was the boy still shocked - still distressed? But it wasn't a look of weakness - of worry. It wasn't the look of a boy at all.

Reven looked at Lain's body as he walked slowly but confidently into the room. There was even something different about the way he held himself. He looked taller - older - stronger.

Reven felt his heart beat increase; his mouth felt dry. He would have laughed at himself, but somehow he wasn't sure how Lain would react to it. He wasn't scared of the youth - of course not! Just - just surprised...

And aroused.

Lain could do that to him, he'd discovered. The boy's smooth flesh could awaken nerve endings in his body; Lain's soft voice could soothe his thoughts whilst spreading its own gentle seduction around hi mind. Lain's eyes sparked excitement in him; Lain's hands drew response out of him: Lain's company intrigued and stimulated him. And his body...

Reven's eyes strafed up and down the half naked boy in front of him. Lain was tugging at the waistband of his too large pants. His eyes held Reven's boldly - his tongue slid out to moisten his tightly pursed lips. And his hand drew the thick leather strap slowly through the fabric loops as sensuously as a sword might pass through soft, warm butter.

And still Reven had to answer the boy's command.

Reven hadn't replied to anyone's command for a very long time.

It annoyed him. It amused him. But it also reached into his soul and tugged at a part of him that he'd thought was deeply buried. A part that had once obeyed a man's every call - and had been damned glad to.

The man was responding-- sitting up fully now and staring at Lain, looking him over and seeming to be making decisions as to whether or not he was going to obey.

What the man didn't seem to acknowledge was that he wasn't being given a choice; he wasn't being asked. So, if he was going to take too long to make a 'choice', that was fine by Lain. It would be made for him.

The brunette approached the bed, dropping the belt on the floor and letting the loose pants slide down his legs easily, stepping out of them in his walk towards the object of his attention.

He parted his lips and finished the command. "Now."

Lain lifted himself onto the bed, shifting until he was on his knees, one leg on either side of Reven's lap, straddling the man and looking down into his face with the same hard expression.

Did the assassin think this was some sort of game? Did he seriously believe what authority and awe he held over the timid Lain kept any stand before this Lain?

That would have to be corrected.

The man still wasn't moving fast enough for his tastes; so, Lain took over the job himself, and pulled the man's shirt over his head, glad at least that he wouldn't have to wrestle the thing off, since Reven seemed to be cooperating.

With the bare torso exposed, cobalt eyes looked over it appraisingly, noting the scars both fresh and faded, and the muscle that spoke of years of training. One side of his mouth pulled back in a vicious smirk as he looked back into the dark chocolate eyes and saw some resistance there, but also growing obedience.

All that kept Lain's body from complete exposure was the set of boxers that would come off with the flick of his wrist; but those would wait for now. Right now, he was going to make sure this man knew just who Lain was.

He lifted his left hand and placed it under Reven's chin, holding the man's face tilted upwards and staring into the brunette's gaze, denying him the ability to turn away from what was to come should he try.

Though he seriously doubted there would be much resistance from here on in-- this man struck him very much as one who knew how to be taken.

Lain tilted his head, keeping his eyes open, and pressed his mouth against Reven's, waiting less than three seconds before pushing his tongue between the soft lips and sliding it along the man's tongue slowly.

How the fuck could a kiss taste so different? Reven's mouth opened almost greedily for the slick, strong tongue that invaded him. It tasted like Lain - but gone was the soft, gentle touch of a loving boy. This was a demand - an order! This was a possession.

When Lain's hands slid down to his torso, Reven didn't move, either to stop or to encourage him. He wondered if he'd have had any control over the boy, anyway.

Lain's hands were very sure, and his mouth still plundered Reven's, keeping the man disconcerted and excited, unable to respond objectively.

Reven felt the fingers pinching at his waist - the hands ripping at the button of his pants. He gasped - groaned.

Lain wriggled on top of him, lifting his body so that he could tug down Reven's pants. His breath came out in a sharp gasp as he achieved his goal - and Reven felt the cool midday air of the apartment on his legs. He had no underwear on. His body was naked - exposed. His skin shivered, but he wasn't cold. He could feel the pressure of Lain's muscles on his thighs and the soft brush of the fabric of the boy's boxers. He felt trapped beneath the slender, determined body that leant on him.

Lain gave the softest of laughs, though maybe not of humour.

Reven knew he was suddenly, fiercely erect. He felt the tug on the hairs of his groin; he felt the thrill of the first drop of seed leaking its eagerness. His head dropped back, baring his throat to Lain. His arms felt weak. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt this vulnerable!

Good. Further cooperation.

As reward for his obedience, the man would be pleasured further.

Lain's first objective had been simply the will to fuck this body before him, but the responses he was getting were good enough to encourage Lain to at least prepare the man before taking him.

He slid off the assassin's legs and drew him up until he was sitting on his calves, and Lain pushed the man's legs apart, settling between them comfortably and resuming his plundering with teeth and lips and tongue.

He bit at the exposed throat, leaving marks uncaringly, then lapped and kissed at the tender flesh in the wake of his abuse-- the cycle repeated several times as he explored down the left side of Reven's neck, then the right, biting down hard, then soothing the flesh afterwards.

As he did this, his left hand slid up Reven's back until it found soft black locks, and he fisted his hand in them, keeping the head pulled back... while his right hand drifted down the man's back and between soft cheeks, his fingers skimming knowingly towards Reven's entrance.

Lain bit down viciously upon Reven's throat, as his middle finger pushed against the tight opening and up inside of him, plunging deep as the brunette could manage.

The noises Reven was making were splendid; Lain smiled as he released the bitten flesh and lapped at the broken skin while his one digit began to move in and out of the hot, tight body slowly.

Reven felt as if he were falling. As if he was being consumed. Lain's mouth bit at him - caressed him.

Every change from one touch to the other made his body shudder and his cock ache, bobbing stickily against his belly. He felt Lain's lips suck at his flesh, inevitably marking him. It had been such a long, long time since he'd received that kind of kiss...

The boy's hands gripped at his hair, tugging him back, refusing to let him lean forward and kiss back. Reven braced his arms, holding himself sat upright. But when the long, slim finger dived down between his cheeks he tensed, suddenly wary.

Lain's grip never faltered; his teeth grazed at Reven's throat as if to warn him not to struggle. The finger stroked at his entrance - so very, very briefly - and then, as if impatient of the game, thrust its way into him; breaking open the channel; forcing through the initial resistance of his flesh; making him arch up and moan aloud.

He only caught a glimpse of Lain's eyes as his head began to shake with the sensations of being so confidently fingered. They sparkled with triumph and delight.

Lain moved his finger in and out, plunging deeper each time - grazing the soft, sensitive channel time and again.

Reven felt the shudder of anticipation throughout his whole body. His arms shook and finally gave way. Even as Lain nuzzled into his neck again, leaving another blood mark, his elbows bent and he fell back on to his back. He lay there, arms flung out to the sides, hands fisting the sheets; his legs pulled wide apart by the boy sat at his feet.

He stared up at Lain, wildly, as the boy reared up over him. Lain's lips glistened with slight drops of blood, swollen from his treatment of his victim. His right hand had let go of Reven's hair and shoulders - but his left still nestled under his balls, teasing and thrusting into him. Taking what it liked.

And then Lain's breathing quickened and his free hand darted to his lap, to fondle his own growing arousal.

And the finger inside Reven suddenly became two.


Reven was responding gorgeously; this was exactly as he'd pictured it. Lain released his aching cock for now and placed his hand on Reven's chest, supporting himself while leaning forward and taking the mouth for his own once more.

He filled the hot mouth with his tongue as he pushed deep inside the tight channel with two fingers now, scissoring them and curling them slightly with each draw from within.

But then, he had a better idea.

Lain drew his lips and tongue from Reven, and reached forward with his hand now, running the tip of his finger along the man's lower lip gently, before pushing it between those full lips as he had his tongue, as he would his cock if things went even smoother than he'd first anticipated.

He grinned with approval as the assassin's tongue began to work at his finger immediately, and he sucked upon it like a babe, making soft noises in the back of his throat as he took the finger into his mouth to the third knuckle.

This was good. This was very, very good. Lain's own arousal was throbbing angrily at the attention it wasn't receiving, but it would wait-- things would be all the sweeter soon enough. The brunette moved the fingers on both his hands at the same time this round; he added a second to Reven's mouth and a third between his legs, pushing both hands further and faster into the warm, moist, tight openings.

A lesser man would have been unable to resist such a sight laid out before him, but Lain was strong; as his eyes razed over the arched back, the legs spreading further for him, the mouth sucking so desperately... he released a growl of pleasure.

He wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

Reven lay back like a willing sacrifice, his mouth full of the clever, slick fingers, teasing and tugging at his tongue, dodging his frantic sucking. He wanted more of Lain - more taste, more touch, more!

And at the same time, to the same unrelenting rhythm, his ass was filled too, with fingers that were fiercer and harsher and even more demanding. He felt his muscles relaxing and opening out to the invasion - dammit, they were begging! His thighs clenched, aching to grip around Lain. He groaned. It wasn't enough!

He wanted to make his own demands - grab at the young body on top of him, shining with the thin sheen of their sweat; put his mouth to it; make his own mark on the pale skin, so blissfully free of the wounds and scars he had on his own. He wanted -!

He struggled, briefly. Tried to sit back up; tried to take back some control.

The hand on his chest was far stronger than he could ever have imagined! It pushed him back - for a second he looked into Lain's face and saw the frown appear. For a second he was shocked - for a second he was cowed.

And he knew at once that he wasn't going to be allowed that freedom.

Ah, so here the rebellions began.

Here they would die, as well.

Lain's expression became set and grim, as he withdrew his fingers from the man. If he didn't want any more preparation, that was fine by the brunette; all the faster Lain could get to his own release.

He took hold of the man's hips and pulled them up into the air and onto his lap, staring down at Reven the entire time, locking gazes with him, daring him to resist.

The head of his erection pressed against the assassin's entrance, and he could not, would not wait any longer; Lain thrust fiercely, sure that he was hurting the man but not caring. He gripped at the man's hips tighter with his hands, nails digging into the flesh, as he growled out a moan and drew back ever so slowly, only to ram forward in a harsh thrust once more.

This was what taking pleasures in life was all about. This was as close a thing to heaven that Lain could ever believe in.
He continued his gentle withdrawals and merciless thrusts several more times, trying to stave off his need, but couldn't handle it for long. Lain released the hips, and leaned forward, placing hands still slick with the givings of Reven's body upon the man's shoulders, holding himself up and gripping them tight.

Staring down into the man's face only heightened the experience as he began to thrust at a steady pace, and felt the delicious tightening of his body as his cock was clenched so firmly and Reven's noises floated to his ears.

He was panting now, as he looked into the face contorted with pleasure and possibly pain; Lain swooped down and bit at Reven's lower lip, then kissed him hard on the mouth before drawing away to growl once more, overflowing with lust.

Locks of chestnut were matted to his back and face, and the muscles in his arms were protesting at how tightly they were being strained, but he did not care.

This body, this man, this being belonged to him.

Reven had allowed the hands on his hips - allowed the opening of his body to the boy's fierce, almost compassionless thrusting.

No - that was a lie. And to himself, the worst kind. He hadn't just passively accepted it - he wanted it! He craved it! He knew that Lain knew this - that he saw it in him today. Reven's whole body arched up to suck the thick cock into him, to take the agony of the breach - to hug it to him like a precious treasure, not the very primitive, painful fucking that it was.

His whole being cried out for it!

His head pressed back into the mattress, his torso straining with the sensations racking him. Lain's hands gripped his shoulders as if they melded into his flesh - he could feel the bruises already springing up.

Again and again the boy pounded into him, his mouth dipping to kiss him, but almost as an afterthought - the concentration was on the fucking; on the wrenching of Reven's body; on the harsh beat of Lain's hips as they slammed against his; on the damp slap of flesh against flesh as they rocked on the bed.

Reven's cock was swollen and aching - he reached a hand to it, but it was knocked away by the violent movement of their bodies. He tried again - he had to have relief!

He could hear a voice moaning, and realised it was his own.

He peered at Lain's contorted expression and saw the approach of climax there. There was pure pleasure on his face - and determination - and the gradual loss of any awareness except of his impending ecstasy. Reven knew he was the one being taken - but for a moment he felt the thrill of bringing this boy that ultimate physical delight.

The look on Lain's face was unbelievably exciting. So was everything about him in this position! The tight, hard muscles of his young arms, bracing him against Reven's body - the heaving chest as his breaths fought to keep up with his thrusts.

Reven felt the coiled pain in his gut that meant the pleasure would sweep through him in seconds - he grabbed again at his cock, rubbing it fiercely. So close! So damned close! It would only take a few quick strokes...

He came, crying out loudly and feeling the muscles of his ass clench around Lain's cock. His hips lifted, tensing and pressing against Lain's lap. His free arm gripped at the side of the mattress - the palm around his cock caressed its sudden, fierce throbbing with an eager familiarity.

Then the hot sticky cum pumped out over his fingers and belly, hiccupping in sudden, angry spurts as if it had been denied for far too long and would now escape where and when it chose.

He cried out again. He thought he cried Lain's name. It was a very anguished - and yet deeply satisfied - cry.

Nothing he was thinking made any sort of sense any longer, but really it didn't matter.

The last of his reality had slipped beneath the waves of lust and climax, and as soon as Reven's body closed around him so tightly, he was completely drowned in it.

Lain came with a guttural moan, hearing his own name wailed before him, a chorus to his glorious climax. He thrust several more times as the assassin's body clung to him, milked every last droplet from him, and once he was completely emptied inside the fiery body, reality returned.

Gasping, panting, rasping breaths, he withdrew from Reven and rolled onto his side, finally allowing the taut muscles in his arms to relax, and feeling the pull his body always gave for sleep after such strain and release.

There was no time for sleeping now. These were the hours that mattered the most; how prepared and how alert Lain was could determine everything.

Lain glanced over to Reven casually, and his eyes narrowed as a wicked thought struck him. He carried out the fantasy into reality, and leaned in slowly, so that his lips were grazing the man's ear and his breath could be felt, hot and soft, against his neck.

"Next time, I won't be so nice," he purred with a vicious smile, before drawing away and sitting up.

The brunette ran his fingers along Reven's lips, down his neck, and cross his chest as a parting caress, replacement for a 'thank you', as he stood slowly and reached for his clothes.

Now that pleasure was complete, he was all business; nobody crossed Lain and got away with it.

Reven felt the onset of sleep himself - his muscles ached, his ass stung, and every bite and graze on his skin exposed nerves to the air - the sudden coolness as Lain had rolled off him.

He felt delicious.

He felt the youth roll off the bed and move away. He thought that there was something he should be discussing with him - about his mood. His behaviour.

But his body still thrummed with his climax. It could all wait.

"Next time..." he murmured. "Next time, maybe neither will I."

He smiled.