yellowhorde (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yellowhorde) wrote2008-06-02 08:36 pm
yellowhorde) wrote2008-06-02 08:36 pm
(fic) The Hunted - Chapter 13/? - PSoH
Disclaimer: I don’t own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairing: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Alternate Universe
Rating: Well, the general story is R, but this chapter is definitely NC-17 ^^'
Warning: Violence, Language, Strong Sexual Situations and Hermaphrodite!D
Title: The Hunted
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2007
Previous Chapters: Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12
“Jesus Christ,” Leon mumbled, gingerly touching the bandage the nurse had applied to the gash on his forehead and wincing. A sizable goose egg had formed beneath the tape and gauze and the swelling had barely gone down despite the ice pack she had applied to his head. “That son of a bitch really did a number on me.”
“Indeed he did,” D murmured softly, inserting his room key into the key slot and pulling it out again once the green light indicated the lock had been released. Leon had lost his somewhere out in the field and he felt it was much too late to go down to the front desk to trouble them over such a trifling matter. “You are lucky you weren’t hurt any worse than you were, Detective.”
“You know what?” Leon snapped, pushing past D and into the Presidential Suite, “I’m sick and tired of hearing that, okay?”
“Perhaps,” D replied stiffly, “But nonetheless, it is true.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” The green hospital Johnny gown fluttered behind him as he strode across the room, making a beeline for the kitchen. The white shirt he had worn – his only dress shirt, he thought with some irritation – had been completely ruined during the attack and was now a shredded, bloody rag lying in a garbage bin at the hospital awaiting incineration. D had reassured him that he would get some clean clothes from his apartment, but as it was almost midnight, they both agreed that it was too late to worry about that now.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “I need a drink.”
While D disappeared in the direction of the master bedroom, presumably to change, Leon rifled the cabinets in search of booze. It didn’t take long for him to locate the bottle of Scotch Li Hua had left behind the other night, but with one arm in a sling, opening the bottle proved to be more than a bit awkward. After several frustrating moments he considered asking D for help, but his pride got the better of him. What was he, a baby? He didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not D’s. He was a grown up, not a child, for Christ’s sake.
Gritting his teeth, he wedged the bottle against the crock of his left elbow, ignoring the fingers of pain that dug into his shoulder as he unscrewed the lid with his good hand. A fierce grin of triumph twisted his lips as he accomplished this small task. Running around one handed for the next six weeks would be a piece of cake as long as he had enough booze to see him through his ordeal.
A fine sheen of perspiration now glistened on his forehead as he snatched a clean glass from the cupboard and set it on the counter. For one moment he contemplated adding ice, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Fortunately, pouring the amber liquid into the tumbler, he found, was a much easier task. Hell, if he wasn’t sharing the suite with D, he wouldn’t have minded drinking straight from the bottle and calling in a medicinal necessity.
Eagerly, Leon brought the tumbler to his lips, breathed in, savoring the rich aroma. He tilted his head back slightly in anticipation of that first heavenly sip, but before he could get so much as a taste, D came up from out of nowhere and snatched the drink from his hand.
“What the fuck, D?” He roared, rounding on the smaller man, his face screwed up in fierce scowl.
“Detective, no,” D chastised, “You shouldn’t drink alcohol while taking prescription pain medications.” With that, he turned and dumped the Scotch down the sink, oblivious to the strangled groan Leon didn’t even try to suppress.
“Damn it, D,” Leon exclaimed, “Have a heart! I’ve had one very shit-tastic day and I just need a little something to help me relax.”
“Then I’ll make you some chamomile tea, Detective,” D replied easily, all but pushing Leon out of the kitchen, “with some lemon and honey. Just go lie down and I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”
Leon rolled his eyes as he turned and plodded into the master bedroom. He dug into his pockets and placed his wallet, keys, loose change and cell phone on top of the nightstand. Carefully, steeling himself against the pain he knew would come, he sat down on the king-sized bed, toed off his shoes first the left followed by the right, then leaned back and rested his back against the mountain of pillows. The movements did produce quick stabs of pain, but they were dulled considerably by the Vicodin he had taken before leaving the hospital. He gritted his teeth and cumbrously swung his legs into the bed with a groan.
When he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he tried to force some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Ah, shit, I don’t want tea,” he muttered, sulking like a child, “I want to get sloshed. Hell, I need to get rip roaring drunk so I can just forget that this day ever happened.”
Anger and resentment curled in his stomach as he thought of how the Chief had removed him from the case – his case, goddamn it! His good hand curled into a fist, the flesh over the knuckles showing white. No matter what he had been told, he felt like he was being punished for fucking up. And he could admit that he had underestimated his opponent, but how was he supposed to know the little fucker could transform without the aid of the full moon?
But I should have known, he thought. Angry at himself as much as at the Chief or Jill, he brought his fist down on his denim clad thigh, hard. I should have known, damn it.
As a hunter, he knew more than almost anyone else that there was no room for errors in his profession. One mistake, one small miscalculation could mean death, disfigurement… or worse. And it only took a second for the tables to turn and for things to get out of control. He was just damned lucky he’d gotten off with only a torn up shoulder, a broken collarbone and a concussion. That quack doctor, Tsung, he thought with a shudder, had been more correct than he knew - it could have been worse, a hell of a lot worse. He hated to admit it, hated even more for people to keep saying it, but it was true. Damn it, it was true and that terrifying truth hung over his head like a dark cloud during each and every hunt he participated in.
Things could always be worse than they appeared.
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes, but the image of Fletcher’s golden wolf eyes staring back into his surfaced, his wolfish snout peeling back in a monstrous doggy grin. His eyes snapped back open and his brows furrowed as he vaguely recalled that the werewolf had tried to speak to him, to tell him something… or maybe it had just been his imagination. What would he possibly have to say to him, ‘I’m going to huff and puff and blow your house in?’
He laughed darkly at this small attempt at humor, but sobered almost immediately.
I’m missing something, he thought wearily, frustrated at the blanks in his memory. Something important, I know it. If only I could remember exactly what the fuck happened out there.
The jangling of his cell phone drew his attention before he could work himself into a decent funk. Frowning, he reached for the phone, wincing as the movement jarred his bones and sent shocks of fire sizzling through his body. He snagged the phone and read the caller ID – Sally Thompson. For a moment he simply stared at the readout, uncomprehending, then it hit. Sally Thompson, Chris’ friend Jack’s mom. Hastily he held the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God, Leon!” Mrs. Thompson’s voice held the unique mixture of anger, fear and relief that only mothers of little children seemed to possess. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
Fresh guilt twisted in his stomach. In the hubbub, he had completely forgotten about Chris’ camping trip with the Thompson family. “Look, I’m sorry about that, I had my cell phone off -“
“Are you all right?” She demanded, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “It’s all over the news, you know, the radio, television - a werewolf loose in the mountains and maybe even heading for Los Angeles. Your werewolf?”
The tone she used made it a statement rather than a question and Leon remembered how he had called her the other day to convince her to cancel their camping trip because his concerns over the escaped patient from the Werewolf Institute. In light of how things had turned out, he wished she would have listened, or that he had been more insistent.
“How can there be a werewolf, Leon?” She asked, bewildered. Her voice was rising in both pitch and volume and Leon knew she was on the verge of losing control. “The full moon isn’t for another two or three days. How could this be happening?”
“I can explain-“
But she didn’t give him a chance to continue, she was too upset at the moment to be talked down. “Police officers with guns and riot gear came through the campsites ordering everyone to evacuate the area. We had been asleep around the campfire when they came swarming in. God, we were so scared!”
“They didn’t even give us time to pack up our gear.” She continued in agitated rush. “There were several families staying at our spot and when the cops came we were herded like, like… cattle… to our cars and ordered to leave the area immediately.” Indignation colored her voice now with an undertone of anger. “Then they blocked the road with their cruisers so no one could get back into the area.”
“It was just so… so,” she floundered for several moments searching for the words to sum up what had happened, what she and the kids had seen, how they must have felt. “Uncivilized.”
Leon grinned at her choice of words. Though he had no doubt that the officers in charge had been brisk, perhaps even forceful, or, dare he say it, rude, he would never have chosen to describe their actions as uncivilized.
“Later, on the way home, I was listening to the radio for any news as to what was going on.” As she continued to tell her story, to vent, Mrs. Thompson began to calm down a little. And Leon thought to himself, Frank Tyger was right; sometimes there really was no greater loan than a sympathetic ear.
“There was a report about a police officer being hurt earlier in the day during some sort of confrontation with the werewolf, but no names were given. But I just knew they were talking about you. We were so worried and poor Chris…”
She broke off, took several audible breaths in an obvious effort to control herself. When she finally spoke again, her voice was strained, tearful around the edges, but calm. “Are you all right?” she repeated.
“Well, I’m certainly not dead,” Leon muttered and immediately regretted his flippancy. Mrs. Thompson had more than enough reasons to be upset. He could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for her and the kids to be roused out of their sleeping bags in the middle of the night and ordered to evacuate because some blood-thirsty monster was on the prowl.
And it wouldn’t have had to happen at all if I hadn’t fucked up in the first place, he thought and guilt mingled with anger - directed inward - roiled in his stomach like a venomous snake.
“I’m fine, really, Mrs. Thompson, there’s no reason to worry.” Leon said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “I got banged up a bit, head wound, broken collarbone, but nothing that will take me out of action.” At least not for long, he mentally added.
Mrs. Thompson sighed in obvious relief. “Thank God, Leon, that’s such a comfort to hear. Would you like to speak to Chris? He’s been worried sick.”
“Yeah, I would,” Leon ran his fingers through his hair and wondered what exactly he was going to tell his little brother. “Put him on.”
“Big Bro!” Chris’ voice exploded through the headset, trembling with anxiety. “Are you okay?”
Leon’s heart gave a twinge at the desperate fear he heard in Chris’ voice and that venomous snake slithered once more in his guts because he knew that he was the one who had put that fear in his brother’s voice. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down, hard.
“I’m fine, squirt.” He said gruffly. “No mangy werewolf will ever get the best of me, you know that, right?”
“Y-yeah… I guess so.”
It killed him to hear the doubtful hesitation in Chris’ small voice. It wasn’t just a matter of pride, damn it. Little boys looked up to their older brothers, idolized and emulated them, especially at Chris’ age. And his inability to do his job in a manner that kept both him and his loved ones safe had damaged some of that confidence, that unshakable belief that the good guys would always win in the battle against evil. And if there was anything Leon hated, it was letting down his family.
“Do you want me to come over there and take you home?” Leon asked quietly. “’Cause I can be there in less than twenty minutes if you want me to.”
He caught movement through the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly, he saw D standing by the bedroom door. As he had guessed, he had changed out of his clothes while he had been wrestling with the Scotch bottle and was now wearing a pale blue sleeping robe with a darker blue sash. He had been too distracted and irritated to notice earlier, but the colors looked good on him. There was a cup and saucer cupped in his hands, no doubt the before mentioned tea.
A smile tugged at the corners of Leon’s mouth as he watched him there, and he nodded his head, giving silent indication that it was okay for him to enter. On silent feet, D crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, setting the cup and saucer on the nightstand.
“Are… aren’t you hurt?” Chris hesitated, as if not sure if he really wanted an answer, but asking anyway because he couldn’t not ask because the question was too important.
Leon sighed and closed his eyes wearily. He couldn’t lie to his brother, not about this. “Yes, I am,” he said, slowly, choosing each word carefully. “But it isn’t anything serious or life threatening. And I’ll be better in no time.”
“Did the werewolf do it?”
Again, Leon decided that the truth would be preferable to a lie. “Yes, he banged me up pretty good. But I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else. Not ever again. You have my word on that one, kiddo. I’m going to take this puppy down… personally.”
There was a long silence on the line and for a moment Leon thought they had been disconnected. Just as he was about to hang up and redial, Chris spoke again, his voice so low, so hesitant that he had to strain his ears to hear him.
“Are you going to turn into a werewolf, Big Bro?”
“What?” A shiver worked its way down Leon’s spine at those words, making the hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stand up. Something, a thought, a memory, a piece of a waking dream, flashed through his mind as quick as lightning but was gone before he had a chance to understand what it had been in the first place.
As if sensing his momentary unease, D eased a bit closer, his mismatched eyes brimming with concern as he placed a gentle hand on his knee.
“No! No, Chris, of course I’m not,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice light. Inhaling a shaky breath, he went on, speaking slowly for emphasis. Chris, he knew, had voiced a legitimate concern, but a futile one. And it was up to his big brother to set things straight in as clear a manner as possible.
“Look… I wasn’t bitten during the attack, Chris, no small thanks to Detective Freshney, just clawed up some. I’ve been hunting these bastards with Dad and by myself for years so you can trust me when I tell you that you can only get Lycanthropy Disorder if you’re bitten by a werewolf, or born with it. And our mother was not a carrier. So there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”
O-okay…” Chris said, though he still sounded uncertain.
“Every time a hunter gets into it with a werewolf and is injured, the doctors send a sample of their blood to the labs, just in case. While I was at the hospital, this honey of a nurse drew some blood and will send it to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention in Georgia.” He smiled wistfully at the memory and that smile became a grin when he caught D narrowing his eyes. “There they’ll run some tests for any signs of Lycanthropy Disorder. But trust me, their not going to find anything, because, as I already said, I wasn’t bitten.”
“Will it take a long time for them to run the tests?”
“Nah, we should have the results back in five to ten business days.” In an effort to calm his brother’s fears, Leon added offhandedly, “I’ve taken these tests at least half a dozen times and they always come back negative. This time won’t be any different. It’s just standard procedure. Just wait, when we get the tests results back, you’ll see that you were worried for nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Chris asked, desperately looking for reassurance. “Cross your heart?”
“And hope to die,” Leon replied with a smile, drawing an imaginary cross over his heart. “So, do you want me to come pick you up tonight?”
“No, I guess not. It’s really late.” Chris’ voice brightened. “And Jack and I haven’t had a chance to play Bushido Blade 2 yet… so I guess I’ll stay here tonight. Is that okay?”
“You betcha.”
“Great!” Turning his head from the phone, Leon could hear Chris telling Jack that he could stay.
Leon smiled at the excitement in his brother’s voice. Kids sure were funny, he thought. One minute they were on the verge of tears, the next hopping with joy.
“Thanks, Big Bro!” Chris chirped into the receiver. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Love ya. Bye.”
“Love ya, too, squirt,” Leon mumbled gruffly to himself. That pesky lump in his throat had returned, Leon noted as he heard his brother handing the phone back to Mrs. Thompson. “I must be coming down with a cold,” he mumbled as he blinked watering eyes.
“So, I’ll see you around three o’clock, then, Leon?” Mrs. Thompson asked, sounding much more like her calm, unruffled self.
“Yes, ma’am,” Leon confirmed. “But feel free to call for an early pick up if he gets out of hand.”
“Don’t worry, I think I can deal with anything these two rug rats can dish out.”
She laughed then, and the sound of it was as bright as bells. Leon could almost imagine how she might have sounded as a young and beautiful woman. For a moment he was vividly reminded of his mother and that thought made him both happy and sad at the same time. The lump in his throat swelled exponentially. Roughly, he cleared his throat and dragged one hand down his face in exhaustion.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Goodbye, Leon,” She replied, then added earnestly, “And please be careful. We wouldn’t want any more scares like today, would we?”
“No, ma’am, we sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Leon disconnected and absently slipped his cell phone in his pocket. He pulled one leg up to his chest and rested his chin on his knee, and brooded in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Is everything alright, Detective?” D asked after a while, pressing the teacup into Leon’s unresisting hand. D was so elegant and the tea cup had looked so natural in his hands, fragile, beautiful, but more sturdy than it appeared. The delicate porcelain and intricate flowing designs always made Leon feel large and clumsy, like Gulliver trapped in the miniature world of the Lilliputians.
“Everything’s fucking peachy,” Leon snapped finally, a bite of sarcasm coloring his words. “I just succeeded in scaring the living shit out of my brother, his best friend and his best friend’s mom.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Detective,” D said quietly, patting Leon’s knee with gentle awkwardness.
“Oh, yeah?” Leon shot back, raising his head and glaring at the other man. “Then whose fault was it, huh?” He pulled his fingers through his hair in obvious agitation. “I was in charge of that hunt, D. We had him, or would have had him if he hadn’t pulled the surprise of the century on us.”
D shifted his body so that he was facing Leon directly. Over the last two years he had become accustomed to the detective’s wild bouts of temper and he wasn’t about to let a little tetchiness drive him away now. Gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers through the tendrils of blond hair that clung tenaciously to Leon’s damp forehead. The other man shivered at the feathery touch, but didn’t pull away. The anger, the self-blame, though, continued to blaze in his blue eyes, a cold fire, D knew, that would inflict more harm on the one bearing the torch than anyone else.
“The fault was not yours, Detective,” he repeated and leaned closer and pressed his lips lightly to Leon’s forehead.
Though he would never admit to it aloud, D had been worried when he had awoken just before sunset to find that Leon still hadn’t returned. His apprehension had only increased when Detective Freshney called the hotel from Cedar-Sinai Hospital to inform him of the ‘accident’. The very thought of losing Leon, of being separated now that they had just come together, had slid invisible slivers of glass into his heart.
Sexual intimacy had built a tremulous bond between them, a shared sense of duty and obligation, D to his grandfather, Leon to the memory of his mother. Even if that was all that there was between them, it had been powerful enough to set free emotions D would never have allowed himself to feel let alone acknowledge. And it was, he realized sadly, too late to put a finger in this particular hole in the dam; his heart simply wouldn’t allow it.
D lowered his eyes, turned his head away from those fierce, angry eyes. “Do not blame yourself, Detective,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “For I am as much to blame as you, if not more so.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leon demanded and D detected a dangerous edge in his voice that had never been there before. Angrily, the detective set the tea cup and saucer on the nightstand hard enough to slosh tea over the edge in a scalding wave.
Moistening his lips, D turned his head, bringing his eyes level to Leon’s. “When you came to my shop the other day to consult me about your case, I already suspected that Joshua Fletcher may indeed be capable of transformation without the aid of the full moon.” he admitted quietly.
A gasp was torn from D’s throat as Leon’s good hand shot out with almost inhuman speed and fell heavily upon his shoulder. Steel-like fingers dug into his flesh, crushing, bruising, hurting. Wide-eyed, he winced, pressing his lips together to keep himself from crying out. He was shaken once, savagely, but he made no effort to pull away. It was not the first time Leon had manhandled him - he had, after all, done so on several different occasions… but it was the first time he had ever actually hurt him.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything about this earlier, D?”
“Would you have listened?” D gasped back, bringing his own hand to cover Leon’s but the other man’s fingers only dug in all the harder, eliciting a small sound of pain.
“God damn it, D, you know I would have. But you didn’t say shit about it. You knew we were going to be hunting down that little bastard and you-didn’t-say-shit!” Leon emphasized his words by shaking D brutally.
“Detective,” D whispered, “You’re hurting me.”
Abruptly, Leon pushed the other man away from him, sending D sprawling at the foot of the bed. Rage fought with shocked dismay in his eyes as he stared, open-mouthed, his chest heaving as he struggled to control the tumultuous storm that roared through his blood and clouded his thoughts and judgment. What the fuck was he doing? Shame engulfed him, sent hot color splashing across his face.
“D… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Wincing, D touched his throbbing shoulder and tried to steady his breathing. When he thought he could speak without his voice trembling, he straightened and turned toward his lover, scooping his hair from his face.
“You never listen, Detective,” he accused flatly. “You follow your own fool’s intuition, depending on your logic and your cop instincts. And only take my advice when you’ve exhausted all other possibilities.”
Leon cast his eyes down, knowing that D was speaking the truth… about everything. He stretched his hand out, beseechingly. “D-“
“I had no hard evidence to present to you,” D slapped his hand away angrily, cutting him off with a harshness that surprised him. “Only my own suspicions… and rumors whispered on the back of the wind. Without proof, I had nothing.” He closed his eyes, wearily, his shoulders slumping. “You’re so stubborn.”
D dropped his head allowing the curtain of black hair to sweep forward to conceal his facial expressions. The emotions raged through him now were too raw, too powerful to share… but too large to be contained.
“You never listen, Detective,” he repeated in a furious whisper. “And you would not have heeded my warnings.”
For a time the only sounds in the room was that of their harsh breathing and the soft gusting of the wind as it slipped in through the open window to ruffle the curtains.
“You’re right, D,” Leon said finally and pulled a startled D into his arms before he could move or even voice a protest. “I’m hard-headed and stubborn.” Pressing his face into the dark silk of D’s hair, he breathed deeply and willed the raging storm within him to subside. He stroked his hands down along the smooth silk that covered D’s back in long, slow caresses, breathed in the clean fragrance of his skin and hair… and felt the maelstrom falter, then finally break.
“And I never listen to you… or anyone else for that matter.” He moved his good shoulder in a lopsided shrug and pressed a kiss to the top of D’s head. “I’m a stubborn shit.”
With a short chuckle, D pulled away and Leon let him. Without a word, he searched Leon’s blue eyes, and visibly relaxed when he found no trace of the rage that had boiled in their depths just a few moments ago. With a silent sigh of relief, he framed his lover’s earnest face with his hands.
“Yes, you are,” He agreed with the barest trace of a smile twitching his lips. “But you wouldn’t be the reckless detective I know if you weren’t.”
Smiling, Leon rested his hand on D’s shoulder and frowned when he winced at the light contact. “Here,” he tugged at the silk of D’s robe, sliding the material aside for a better look. “Let me see.”
D tried to brush his hand away, but that famous Orcot stubbornness finally won the day. The robe slipped from milky shoulders to pool at D’s waist. D closed his eyes and turned his head away at Leon’s harsh exclamation.
“Jesus Christ, D!” Unnerved, Leon ghosted his forefinger along the dark purple bruise that was already starting to spread along the pale skin in the unmistakable shape of gripping fingers.
Leaning forward, D rested his head on Leon’s chest and splayed his hand on his chest, directly over his heart. He found comfort in the warmth that radiated from his skin through the ugly hospital gown he still wore, from the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Within him there kindled a deep and powerful heat and it burst into life and radiated through his body, a need, a desire he knew he would not be able to control… not this time. It pounded through his blood, surging with each answering beat of his heart and sparked a yearning ache in his loins.
“It’s alright,” he whispered, “There’s no need to worry about it. I heal quickly and it will be gone in no time at all.”
While Leon knew from experience that D was right – hell, he’d seen him shrug off a bullet wound like it was practically nothing, after all – it still bothered him greatly that he had been the cause of that viscous mark. He remembered confiding with Jill just the other day about not being able to control his temper, but damn it, yelling at someone wasn’t anywhere near the same thing as physically hurting them in a fit of temper. God knew D had managed to get his goat on more than one occasion over the past few years, but he had never once laid a hand on him in true violence… until now.
“Still…” Leon trailed off at a loss. “Shit, D, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You can always make it up to me,” D whispered in a throaty purr.
Leon’s brow winged up in surprise at the sudden change in D’s mood. “Oh, yeah,” he asked, “And how should I do that?”
Instead of answering, D reached up and caught Leon’s lips with his own in a demanding kiss before pulling back and catching his bottom lip in a playful nip. His hands slipped under the Johnny and hurriedly pushed the green material up, exposing the smooth, tan expanse of Leon’s torso. He lowered his head and dragged his tongue along the firm muscles of his abdomen, causing Leon to catch his breath violently in reaction.
“Holy shit, D,” Leon gasped, “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I believe it was you, Detective,” D breathed, a saucy smile dancing along his lips. “And I’d like you to do so again.”
Fumbling a little in his eagerness, D reached for the button fly of Leon’s jeans and undid the first two buttons before Leon laid his hand over his. “Wait, D,” he rasped. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t know if this is such a great idea.”
D’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, “Why ever not, my dear Detective?”
“Well, you know,” He gestured helplessly toward his left arm and the sling. “I’m kind of out of commission here.”
“Not so,” D corrected, then, smiling mischievously, he kissed him sweetly on the tip of the nose, then his lips. “Relax, Detective,” he said, then turned his attention back to those pesky buttons. “And just leave everything to me.”
Bemused, but also highly aroused by D’s unusual aggressiveness, Leon settled back against the pillows and watched as D unfastened the last two buttons of his fly. Then, gripping both the waistbands of both the jeans and his underwear in his hands, he tugged them lower on his hips with a light grunt of effort.
He glanced up toward Leon, “If I may have a little help here, Detective?”
“Uh, sure, no problem,” Leon mumbled and carefully scooted lower so that he was lying on his back with only his head resting against the pillows, then lifted his hips in an obliging manner.
“Thank you.” D quickly skimmed the material over Leon’s hips and down along his long legs. “And down,” he said, patting his bare thigh to indicate that he could lower himself back onto the bed.
“Hey,” Leon replied a bit shakily, “don’t mention it.”
With ease D slid the denim over Leon’s feet then dropped them with surprising carelessness over the side of the bed. After a few moments of internal debate, the socks soon followed.
Naked but for the hospital Johnny that D had pushed up to expose his chest, Leon watched with amazement as D cupped his cock in his small hands and nuzzled his check against the velvety softness of it. Smiling as if amused, he then gently puffed his breath, hot and moist, along the length which brought Leon’s erection to full attention.
After a few moments of scooting around, D maneuvered himself between Leon’s muscular thighs and rolled his eyes up to see the expression on his lover’s face. Those beautiful blue eyes were a touch wide and ruddy color had seeped across the angles and planes of his face. A fine sheen of perspiration glossed his forehead, but this time it wasn’t from pain. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and his tongue darted out to moisten his slightly parted lips.
Tucking his dark hair behind his ear, D lowered his head and took the tip of Leon’s penis into his mouth. He smiled as a small strangled sound escaped the other man’s lips and he found that he rather enjoyed pleasuring the detective, enjoyed being the one that caused him to make such exquisite sounds. Smugly, he opened his mouth a bit wider and wrapped his lips around the head and shaft of the straining cock.
Leon’s body tensed and his back arched as the moist heat of D’s mouth engulfed him. Unable to take the lead, he laid there, his good hand fisting the bed linens, and abandoned himself to the marvelous sensations that were rocketing through his body straight to the pleasure center of his brain. In the two years he had known him, Leon had never once dared dream that one day he would be pleasured by the mysterious and elusive Count D. And now that it was actually happening, he found it to be one of the most erotic moments of his life.
What D lacked in experience – his teeth scraped once along Leon’s shaft, which caused him to jerk and cry out in shocked surprise - he made up for in enthusiasm. As he kissed, nibbled and sucked his partner into a state of delirium with his mouth and lips, he teased his fingers along the firm curves of his balls, marveling at the soft flesh, the marvelous textures.
As a hermaphrodite, D had the sexual reproductive organs of both the male and female, but he had never had cause – or felt the need – to explore his own most intimate parts. Though he had felt his share of sexual urges since coming of age, he had stubbornly ignored such base desires, theorizing that if he did so they would eventually go away. And until he had met Detective Orcot, this had indeed been the case. But now, sexually aware and aching with desire, he craved to touch and be touched.
Caught in the heat of the moment, he pulled away from Leon as his free hand parted the folds of his sleeping robe, slipped between his legs and touched where he had only touched through necessity. His chest heaved as he struggled to slow his heart, his breathing, but then the air caught sharply in his throat as he wrapped his hand around his own neglected cock and hesitantly mirrored the hand movements he was currently practicing on the detective.
“Oh,” he gasped quietly, then again, “Oh… my.”
Slowly, as he stroked himself, as he grew increasingly aware of the pleasure that began to spiral and build within him, D explored his own body with one hand, while he pleasured Leon with the other. When he found one spot or a particular sort of touch enjoyable, he tried repeating it on his partner. And he was enormously pleased when, more often than not, Leon indicated with heartfelt moans and jerks of his hips that he liked it as well.
D’s orgasm ripped through his body hard and unexpected, digging sharp claws into him and bowing his back as it exploded, causing white stars to dance before his eyes. Biting his lower lip in a desperate effort to keep from crying out, he collapsed against Leon and lay there senseless for several moments, gasping and trembling from the sheer strength of his release.
“D, hey, D,” Leon patted his cheek gently to rouse him. Slowly D’s eyes cleared and became more focused. He blinked at Leon and offered a lazy smile. “Are you alright?”
“Never better,” D sighed and kissed Leon slowly and deliberately on the mouth, brushing his tongue along his lower lip before pushing himself up. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“Hey, you know, I’m good,” Leon murmured, “Really. I can take care of the rest by myself.”
“Nonsense,” D replied softly, brushing his half-hearted protests aside with a smile. “I want to.”
Suddenly his breath caught and his mismatched eyes flew open wide. He replayed the words he had just spoken in his mind. Sitting up, he threw a leg over Leon’s torso so that he straddled him. Then he repeated the words aloud, awed and just a touch scared. “I want to.”
Grinning like a fool, Leon settled back and prepared to be taken for one hell of a ride. “Sure, D, whatever you want,” he replied easily. “But if you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was ask.”
D leaned forward and kissed Leon with a fervor that left the detective breathless. “I want to do this,” he rasped and his face broke into a grin of almost fierce possessiveness. “And I want you, Detective, and only you.”
Oddly touched, Leon cupped D’s face with his good hand, traced the ball of his thumb over those soft lips. “That’s… that’s really something, D, ‘cause you’re all I’ve been able to think about for a long, long time.”
D turned his head into Leon’s hand, pressed a kiss against his palm. “I want you… inside me… right now.”
Hiking the ends of his robe to his hips, D gently took hold of Leon’s shaft, guided it to where he wanted – needed – it to be, then slowly, so very slowly, lowered himself, taking it in, all of it, one inch at a time. There was no pain this time, as there had been before, only the feeling of being stretched, being filled… a sense of completion that he suddenly realized that he must have been unconsciously searching for his entire life.
His head fell back and he fought to control his breathing. “Yes,” he gasped, “like this. Just like this.” A soft sound that might have been a sob escaped his throat as he began to move, slowly, uncertainly at first, then with more confidence as the warmth and pleasure began to build.
Leon gripped D’s hip, arched up into him, matching D’s quickening rhythm with his own. The sight of him, pale and glistening, riding atop him, head back and hands braced against his chest for support thrilled him like nothing else ever had. D’s breath stuttered in his throat and his head lulled forward, his hair falling to obscure the pale triangle of his face. His movements faltered, grew erratic, desperate.
“Just you…” D whispered hoarsely, raising his head to meet Leon’s gaze squarely. “I want this… not for my grandfather… not for an heir.” D’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling another muffled sob that tried to escape and this time it carried Leon’s name on its back. “I want… I want you…”
“I’m yours, D, I’m yours,” Leon panted, sensing that he was near the edge but unable to make it on his own. “Let go, just let go. Let me hear how much you want this, baby. I want to hear your voice.”
He snapped his hips hard, driving deeply into that tight, giving heat as his own orgasm began to peak. As the pleasure ripped through his body, turning his vision white, D’s hand fell away and his head fell back. He screamed as his own climax claimed him, driving him over and beyond that dazzling edge.
As if in slow motion, he slumped forward and onto Leon’s chest, boneless and gasping for air. Tremors wracked his body and his glazed eyes slid closed, black lashes fanning the flushed porcelain of his face.
Once he was able to catch his own breath, Leon clumsily dragged D’s robe up over his shoulder so he wouldn’t catch cold. D cracked his eyes and, exhausted, hummed his thanks and wrapped his arms around Leon’s glistening chest and rested his head just under his right shoulder.
“…love you…” D murmured as he sank into the sleek, dark depths of sleep.
The words should have been easy, Leon thought as he opened his mouth to reply, but they snagged in his throat and refused to come out. In the end he simply turned his head to the window and said nothing. Oblong bars of pale moonlight tilted across the room to fall across the bed where they lay. D’s breathing evened out, took on the slow, even rhythms of deep sleep and Leon had no doubts that he was well on his way to the land of dreams. He only hoped that they would be pleasant.
Sleep, he knew, would not come so easily for him.
For a long, long time, Leon absently stroked his fingers through the dark silk of D’s hair and watched with unsettling apprehension as the silver moon, nearly full, slowly crossed the night sky.
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER 14
Wow, I can't believe I actually wrote this. *clears throat* Needless to say, this is NOT the version that will be showing up on Fanfiction.Net.
As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. *^-^*
Pairing: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Alternate Universe
Rating: Well, the general story is R, but this chapter is definitely NC-17 ^^'
Warning: Violence, Language, Strong Sexual Situations and Hermaphrodite!D
Title: The Hunted
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2007
Previous Chapters: Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12
“Jesus Christ,” Leon mumbled, gingerly touching the bandage the nurse had applied to the gash on his forehead and wincing. A sizable goose egg had formed beneath the tape and gauze and the swelling had barely gone down despite the ice pack she had applied to his head. “That son of a bitch really did a number on me.”
“Indeed he did,” D murmured softly, inserting his room key into the key slot and pulling it out again once the green light indicated the lock had been released. Leon had lost his somewhere out in the field and he felt it was much too late to go down to the front desk to trouble them over such a trifling matter. “You are lucky you weren’t hurt any worse than you were, Detective.”
“You know what?” Leon snapped, pushing past D and into the Presidential Suite, “I’m sick and tired of hearing that, okay?”
“Perhaps,” D replied stiffly, “But nonetheless, it is true.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” The green hospital Johnny gown fluttered behind him as he strode across the room, making a beeline for the kitchen. The white shirt he had worn – his only dress shirt, he thought with some irritation – had been completely ruined during the attack and was now a shredded, bloody rag lying in a garbage bin at the hospital awaiting incineration. D had reassured him that he would get some clean clothes from his apartment, but as it was almost midnight, they both agreed that it was too late to worry about that now.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “I need a drink.”
While D disappeared in the direction of the master bedroom, presumably to change, Leon rifled the cabinets in search of booze. It didn’t take long for him to locate the bottle of Scotch Li Hua had left behind the other night, but with one arm in a sling, opening the bottle proved to be more than a bit awkward. After several frustrating moments he considered asking D for help, but his pride got the better of him. What was he, a baby? He didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not D’s. He was a grown up, not a child, for Christ’s sake.
Gritting his teeth, he wedged the bottle against the crock of his left elbow, ignoring the fingers of pain that dug into his shoulder as he unscrewed the lid with his good hand. A fierce grin of triumph twisted his lips as he accomplished this small task. Running around one handed for the next six weeks would be a piece of cake as long as he had enough booze to see him through his ordeal.
A fine sheen of perspiration now glistened on his forehead as he snatched a clean glass from the cupboard and set it on the counter. For one moment he contemplated adding ice, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Fortunately, pouring the amber liquid into the tumbler, he found, was a much easier task. Hell, if he wasn’t sharing the suite with D, he wouldn’t have minded drinking straight from the bottle and calling in a medicinal necessity.
Eagerly, Leon brought the tumbler to his lips, breathed in, savoring the rich aroma. He tilted his head back slightly in anticipation of that first heavenly sip, but before he could get so much as a taste, D came up from out of nowhere and snatched the drink from his hand.
“What the fuck, D?” He roared, rounding on the smaller man, his face screwed up in fierce scowl.
“Detective, no,” D chastised, “You shouldn’t drink alcohol while taking prescription pain medications.” With that, he turned and dumped the Scotch down the sink, oblivious to the strangled groan Leon didn’t even try to suppress.
“Damn it, D,” Leon exclaimed, “Have a heart! I’ve had one very shit-tastic day and I just need a little something to help me relax.”
“Then I’ll make you some chamomile tea, Detective,” D replied easily, all but pushing Leon out of the kitchen, “with some lemon and honey. Just go lie down and I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”
Leon rolled his eyes as he turned and plodded into the master bedroom. He dug into his pockets and placed his wallet, keys, loose change and cell phone on top of the nightstand. Carefully, steeling himself against the pain he knew would come, he sat down on the king-sized bed, toed off his shoes first the left followed by the right, then leaned back and rested his back against the mountain of pillows. The movements did produce quick stabs of pain, but they were dulled considerably by the Vicodin he had taken before leaving the hospital. He gritted his teeth and cumbrously swung his legs into the bed with a groan.
When he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he tried to force some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Ah, shit, I don’t want tea,” he muttered, sulking like a child, “I want to get sloshed. Hell, I need to get rip roaring drunk so I can just forget that this day ever happened.”
Anger and resentment curled in his stomach as he thought of how the Chief had removed him from the case – his case, goddamn it! His good hand curled into a fist, the flesh over the knuckles showing white. No matter what he had been told, he felt like he was being punished for fucking up. And he could admit that he had underestimated his opponent, but how was he supposed to know the little fucker could transform without the aid of the full moon?
But I should have known, he thought. Angry at himself as much as at the Chief or Jill, he brought his fist down on his denim clad thigh, hard. I should have known, damn it.
As a hunter, he knew more than almost anyone else that there was no room for errors in his profession. One mistake, one small miscalculation could mean death, disfigurement… or worse. And it only took a second for the tables to turn and for things to get out of control. He was just damned lucky he’d gotten off with only a torn up shoulder, a broken collarbone and a concussion. That quack doctor, Tsung, he thought with a shudder, had been more correct than he knew - it could have been worse, a hell of a lot worse. He hated to admit it, hated even more for people to keep saying it, but it was true. Damn it, it was true and that terrifying truth hung over his head like a dark cloud during each and every hunt he participated in.
Things could always be worse than they appeared.
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes, but the image of Fletcher’s golden wolf eyes staring back into his surfaced, his wolfish snout peeling back in a monstrous doggy grin. His eyes snapped back open and his brows furrowed as he vaguely recalled that the werewolf had tried to speak to him, to tell him something… or maybe it had just been his imagination. What would he possibly have to say to him, ‘I’m going to huff and puff and blow your house in?’
He laughed darkly at this small attempt at humor, but sobered almost immediately.
I’m missing something, he thought wearily, frustrated at the blanks in his memory. Something important, I know it. If only I could remember exactly what the fuck happened out there.
The jangling of his cell phone drew his attention before he could work himself into a decent funk. Frowning, he reached for the phone, wincing as the movement jarred his bones and sent shocks of fire sizzling through his body. He snagged the phone and read the caller ID – Sally Thompson. For a moment he simply stared at the readout, uncomprehending, then it hit. Sally Thompson, Chris’ friend Jack’s mom. Hastily he held the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God, Leon!” Mrs. Thompson’s voice held the unique mixture of anger, fear and relief that only mothers of little children seemed to possess. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
Fresh guilt twisted in his stomach. In the hubbub, he had completely forgotten about Chris’ camping trip with the Thompson family. “Look, I’m sorry about that, I had my cell phone off -“
“Are you all right?” She demanded, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “It’s all over the news, you know, the radio, television - a werewolf loose in the mountains and maybe even heading for Los Angeles. Your werewolf?”
The tone she used made it a statement rather than a question and Leon remembered how he had called her the other day to convince her to cancel their camping trip because his concerns over the escaped patient from the Werewolf Institute. In light of how things had turned out, he wished she would have listened, or that he had been more insistent.
“How can there be a werewolf, Leon?” She asked, bewildered. Her voice was rising in both pitch and volume and Leon knew she was on the verge of losing control. “The full moon isn’t for another two or three days. How could this be happening?”
“I can explain-“
But she didn’t give him a chance to continue, she was too upset at the moment to be talked down. “Police officers with guns and riot gear came through the campsites ordering everyone to evacuate the area. We had been asleep around the campfire when they came swarming in. God, we were so scared!”
“They didn’t even give us time to pack up our gear.” She continued in agitated rush. “There were several families staying at our spot and when the cops came we were herded like, like… cattle… to our cars and ordered to leave the area immediately.” Indignation colored her voice now with an undertone of anger. “Then they blocked the road with their cruisers so no one could get back into the area.”
“It was just so… so,” she floundered for several moments searching for the words to sum up what had happened, what she and the kids had seen, how they must have felt. “Uncivilized.”
Leon grinned at her choice of words. Though he had no doubt that the officers in charge had been brisk, perhaps even forceful, or, dare he say it, rude, he would never have chosen to describe their actions as uncivilized.
“Later, on the way home, I was listening to the radio for any news as to what was going on.” As she continued to tell her story, to vent, Mrs. Thompson began to calm down a little. And Leon thought to himself, Frank Tyger was right; sometimes there really was no greater loan than a sympathetic ear.
“There was a report about a police officer being hurt earlier in the day during some sort of confrontation with the werewolf, but no names were given. But I just knew they were talking about you. We were so worried and poor Chris…”
She broke off, took several audible breaths in an obvious effort to control herself. When she finally spoke again, her voice was strained, tearful around the edges, but calm. “Are you all right?” she repeated.
“Well, I’m certainly not dead,” Leon muttered and immediately regretted his flippancy. Mrs. Thompson had more than enough reasons to be upset. He could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for her and the kids to be roused out of their sleeping bags in the middle of the night and ordered to evacuate because some blood-thirsty monster was on the prowl.
And it wouldn’t have had to happen at all if I hadn’t fucked up in the first place, he thought and guilt mingled with anger - directed inward - roiled in his stomach like a venomous snake.
“I’m fine, really, Mrs. Thompson, there’s no reason to worry.” Leon said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “I got banged up a bit, head wound, broken collarbone, but nothing that will take me out of action.” At least not for long, he mentally added.
Mrs. Thompson sighed in obvious relief. “Thank God, Leon, that’s such a comfort to hear. Would you like to speak to Chris? He’s been worried sick.”
“Yeah, I would,” Leon ran his fingers through his hair and wondered what exactly he was going to tell his little brother. “Put him on.”
“Big Bro!” Chris’ voice exploded through the headset, trembling with anxiety. “Are you okay?”
Leon’s heart gave a twinge at the desperate fear he heard in Chris’ voice and that venomous snake slithered once more in his guts because he knew that he was the one who had put that fear in his brother’s voice. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down, hard.
“I’m fine, squirt.” He said gruffly. “No mangy werewolf will ever get the best of me, you know that, right?”
“Y-yeah… I guess so.”
It killed him to hear the doubtful hesitation in Chris’ small voice. It wasn’t just a matter of pride, damn it. Little boys looked up to their older brothers, idolized and emulated them, especially at Chris’ age. And his inability to do his job in a manner that kept both him and his loved ones safe had damaged some of that confidence, that unshakable belief that the good guys would always win in the battle against evil. And if there was anything Leon hated, it was letting down his family.
“Do you want me to come over there and take you home?” Leon asked quietly. “’Cause I can be there in less than twenty minutes if you want me to.”
He caught movement through the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly, he saw D standing by the bedroom door. As he had guessed, he had changed out of his clothes while he had been wrestling with the Scotch bottle and was now wearing a pale blue sleeping robe with a darker blue sash. He had been too distracted and irritated to notice earlier, but the colors looked good on him. There was a cup and saucer cupped in his hands, no doubt the before mentioned tea.
A smile tugged at the corners of Leon’s mouth as he watched him there, and he nodded his head, giving silent indication that it was okay for him to enter. On silent feet, D crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, setting the cup and saucer on the nightstand.
“Are… aren’t you hurt?” Chris hesitated, as if not sure if he really wanted an answer, but asking anyway because he couldn’t not ask because the question was too important.
Leon sighed and closed his eyes wearily. He couldn’t lie to his brother, not about this. “Yes, I am,” he said, slowly, choosing each word carefully. “But it isn’t anything serious or life threatening. And I’ll be better in no time.”
“Did the werewolf do it?”
Again, Leon decided that the truth would be preferable to a lie. “Yes, he banged me up pretty good. But I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else. Not ever again. You have my word on that one, kiddo. I’m going to take this puppy down… personally.”
There was a long silence on the line and for a moment Leon thought they had been disconnected. Just as he was about to hang up and redial, Chris spoke again, his voice so low, so hesitant that he had to strain his ears to hear him.
“Are you going to turn into a werewolf, Big Bro?”
“What?” A shiver worked its way down Leon’s spine at those words, making the hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stand up. Something, a thought, a memory, a piece of a waking dream, flashed through his mind as quick as lightning but was gone before he had a chance to understand what it had been in the first place.
As if sensing his momentary unease, D eased a bit closer, his mismatched eyes brimming with concern as he placed a gentle hand on his knee.
“No! No, Chris, of course I’m not,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice light. Inhaling a shaky breath, he went on, speaking slowly for emphasis. Chris, he knew, had voiced a legitimate concern, but a futile one. And it was up to his big brother to set things straight in as clear a manner as possible.
“Look… I wasn’t bitten during the attack, Chris, no small thanks to Detective Freshney, just clawed up some. I’ve been hunting these bastards with Dad and by myself for years so you can trust me when I tell you that you can only get Lycanthropy Disorder if you’re bitten by a werewolf, or born with it. And our mother was not a carrier. So there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”
O-okay…” Chris said, though he still sounded uncertain.
“Every time a hunter gets into it with a werewolf and is injured, the doctors send a sample of their blood to the labs, just in case. While I was at the hospital, this honey of a nurse drew some blood and will send it to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention in Georgia.” He smiled wistfully at the memory and that smile became a grin when he caught D narrowing his eyes. “There they’ll run some tests for any signs of Lycanthropy Disorder. But trust me, their not going to find anything, because, as I already said, I wasn’t bitten.”
“Will it take a long time for them to run the tests?”
“Nah, we should have the results back in five to ten business days.” In an effort to calm his brother’s fears, Leon added offhandedly, “I’ve taken these tests at least half a dozen times and they always come back negative. This time won’t be any different. It’s just standard procedure. Just wait, when we get the tests results back, you’ll see that you were worried for nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Chris asked, desperately looking for reassurance. “Cross your heart?”
“And hope to die,” Leon replied with a smile, drawing an imaginary cross over his heart. “So, do you want me to come pick you up tonight?”
“No, I guess not. It’s really late.” Chris’ voice brightened. “And Jack and I haven’t had a chance to play Bushido Blade 2 yet… so I guess I’ll stay here tonight. Is that okay?”
“You betcha.”
“Great!” Turning his head from the phone, Leon could hear Chris telling Jack that he could stay.
Leon smiled at the excitement in his brother’s voice. Kids sure were funny, he thought. One minute they were on the verge of tears, the next hopping with joy.
“Thanks, Big Bro!” Chris chirped into the receiver. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Love ya. Bye.”
“Love ya, too, squirt,” Leon mumbled gruffly to himself. That pesky lump in his throat had returned, Leon noted as he heard his brother handing the phone back to Mrs. Thompson. “I must be coming down with a cold,” he mumbled as he blinked watering eyes.
“So, I’ll see you around three o’clock, then, Leon?” Mrs. Thompson asked, sounding much more like her calm, unruffled self.
“Yes, ma’am,” Leon confirmed. “But feel free to call for an early pick up if he gets out of hand.”
“Don’t worry, I think I can deal with anything these two rug rats can dish out.”
She laughed then, and the sound of it was as bright as bells. Leon could almost imagine how she might have sounded as a young and beautiful woman. For a moment he was vividly reminded of his mother and that thought made him both happy and sad at the same time. The lump in his throat swelled exponentially. Roughly, he cleared his throat and dragged one hand down his face in exhaustion.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Goodbye, Leon,” She replied, then added earnestly, “And please be careful. We wouldn’t want any more scares like today, would we?”
“No, ma’am, we sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Leon disconnected and absently slipped his cell phone in his pocket. He pulled one leg up to his chest and rested his chin on his knee, and brooded in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Is everything alright, Detective?” D asked after a while, pressing the teacup into Leon’s unresisting hand. D was so elegant and the tea cup had looked so natural in his hands, fragile, beautiful, but more sturdy than it appeared. The delicate porcelain and intricate flowing designs always made Leon feel large and clumsy, like Gulliver trapped in the miniature world of the Lilliputians.
“Everything’s fucking peachy,” Leon snapped finally, a bite of sarcasm coloring his words. “I just succeeded in scaring the living shit out of my brother, his best friend and his best friend’s mom.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Detective,” D said quietly, patting Leon’s knee with gentle awkwardness.
“Oh, yeah?” Leon shot back, raising his head and glaring at the other man. “Then whose fault was it, huh?” He pulled his fingers through his hair in obvious agitation. “I was in charge of that hunt, D. We had him, or would have had him if he hadn’t pulled the surprise of the century on us.”
D shifted his body so that he was facing Leon directly. Over the last two years he had become accustomed to the detective’s wild bouts of temper and he wasn’t about to let a little tetchiness drive him away now. Gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers through the tendrils of blond hair that clung tenaciously to Leon’s damp forehead. The other man shivered at the feathery touch, but didn’t pull away. The anger, the self-blame, though, continued to blaze in his blue eyes, a cold fire, D knew, that would inflict more harm on the one bearing the torch than anyone else.
“The fault was not yours, Detective,” he repeated and leaned closer and pressed his lips lightly to Leon’s forehead.
Though he would never admit to it aloud, D had been worried when he had awoken just before sunset to find that Leon still hadn’t returned. His apprehension had only increased when Detective Freshney called the hotel from Cedar-Sinai Hospital to inform him of the ‘accident’. The very thought of losing Leon, of being separated now that they had just come together, had slid invisible slivers of glass into his heart.
Sexual intimacy had built a tremulous bond between them, a shared sense of duty and obligation, D to his grandfather, Leon to the memory of his mother. Even if that was all that there was between them, it had been powerful enough to set free emotions D would never have allowed himself to feel let alone acknowledge. And it was, he realized sadly, too late to put a finger in this particular hole in the dam; his heart simply wouldn’t allow it.
D lowered his eyes, turned his head away from those fierce, angry eyes. “Do not blame yourself, Detective,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “For I am as much to blame as you, if not more so.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leon demanded and D detected a dangerous edge in his voice that had never been there before. Angrily, the detective set the tea cup and saucer on the nightstand hard enough to slosh tea over the edge in a scalding wave.
Moistening his lips, D turned his head, bringing his eyes level to Leon’s. “When you came to my shop the other day to consult me about your case, I already suspected that Joshua Fletcher may indeed be capable of transformation without the aid of the full moon.” he admitted quietly.
A gasp was torn from D’s throat as Leon’s good hand shot out with almost inhuman speed and fell heavily upon his shoulder. Steel-like fingers dug into his flesh, crushing, bruising, hurting. Wide-eyed, he winced, pressing his lips together to keep himself from crying out. He was shaken once, savagely, but he made no effort to pull away. It was not the first time Leon had manhandled him - he had, after all, done so on several different occasions… but it was the first time he had ever actually hurt him.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything about this earlier, D?”
“Would you have listened?” D gasped back, bringing his own hand to cover Leon’s but the other man’s fingers only dug in all the harder, eliciting a small sound of pain.
“God damn it, D, you know I would have. But you didn’t say shit about it. You knew we were going to be hunting down that little bastard and you-didn’t-say-shit!” Leon emphasized his words by shaking D brutally.
“Detective,” D whispered, “You’re hurting me.”
Abruptly, Leon pushed the other man away from him, sending D sprawling at the foot of the bed. Rage fought with shocked dismay in his eyes as he stared, open-mouthed, his chest heaving as he struggled to control the tumultuous storm that roared through his blood and clouded his thoughts and judgment. What the fuck was he doing? Shame engulfed him, sent hot color splashing across his face.
“D… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Wincing, D touched his throbbing shoulder and tried to steady his breathing. When he thought he could speak without his voice trembling, he straightened and turned toward his lover, scooping his hair from his face.
“You never listen, Detective,” he accused flatly. “You follow your own fool’s intuition, depending on your logic and your cop instincts. And only take my advice when you’ve exhausted all other possibilities.”
Leon cast his eyes down, knowing that D was speaking the truth… about everything. He stretched his hand out, beseechingly. “D-“
“I had no hard evidence to present to you,” D slapped his hand away angrily, cutting him off with a harshness that surprised him. “Only my own suspicions… and rumors whispered on the back of the wind. Without proof, I had nothing.” He closed his eyes, wearily, his shoulders slumping. “You’re so stubborn.”
D dropped his head allowing the curtain of black hair to sweep forward to conceal his facial expressions. The emotions raged through him now were too raw, too powerful to share… but too large to be contained.
“You never listen, Detective,” he repeated in a furious whisper. “And you would not have heeded my warnings.”
For a time the only sounds in the room was that of their harsh breathing and the soft gusting of the wind as it slipped in through the open window to ruffle the curtains.
“You’re right, D,” Leon said finally and pulled a startled D into his arms before he could move or even voice a protest. “I’m hard-headed and stubborn.” Pressing his face into the dark silk of D’s hair, he breathed deeply and willed the raging storm within him to subside. He stroked his hands down along the smooth silk that covered D’s back in long, slow caresses, breathed in the clean fragrance of his skin and hair… and felt the maelstrom falter, then finally break.
“And I never listen to you… or anyone else for that matter.” He moved his good shoulder in a lopsided shrug and pressed a kiss to the top of D’s head. “I’m a stubborn shit.”
With a short chuckle, D pulled away and Leon let him. Without a word, he searched Leon’s blue eyes, and visibly relaxed when he found no trace of the rage that had boiled in their depths just a few moments ago. With a silent sigh of relief, he framed his lover’s earnest face with his hands.
“Yes, you are,” He agreed with the barest trace of a smile twitching his lips. “But you wouldn’t be the reckless detective I know if you weren’t.”
Smiling, Leon rested his hand on D’s shoulder and frowned when he winced at the light contact. “Here,” he tugged at the silk of D’s robe, sliding the material aside for a better look. “Let me see.”
D tried to brush his hand away, but that famous Orcot stubbornness finally won the day. The robe slipped from milky shoulders to pool at D’s waist. D closed his eyes and turned his head away at Leon’s harsh exclamation.
“Jesus Christ, D!” Unnerved, Leon ghosted his forefinger along the dark purple bruise that was already starting to spread along the pale skin in the unmistakable shape of gripping fingers.
Leaning forward, D rested his head on Leon’s chest and splayed his hand on his chest, directly over his heart. He found comfort in the warmth that radiated from his skin through the ugly hospital gown he still wore, from the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Within him there kindled a deep and powerful heat and it burst into life and radiated through his body, a need, a desire he knew he would not be able to control… not this time. It pounded through his blood, surging with each answering beat of his heart and sparked a yearning ache in his loins.
“It’s alright,” he whispered, “There’s no need to worry about it. I heal quickly and it will be gone in no time at all.”
While Leon knew from experience that D was right – hell, he’d seen him shrug off a bullet wound like it was practically nothing, after all – it still bothered him greatly that he had been the cause of that viscous mark. He remembered confiding with Jill just the other day about not being able to control his temper, but damn it, yelling at someone wasn’t anywhere near the same thing as physically hurting them in a fit of temper. God knew D had managed to get his goat on more than one occasion over the past few years, but he had never once laid a hand on him in true violence… until now.
“Still…” Leon trailed off at a loss. “Shit, D, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You can always make it up to me,” D whispered in a throaty purr.
Leon’s brow winged up in surprise at the sudden change in D’s mood. “Oh, yeah,” he asked, “And how should I do that?”
Instead of answering, D reached up and caught Leon’s lips with his own in a demanding kiss before pulling back and catching his bottom lip in a playful nip. His hands slipped under the Johnny and hurriedly pushed the green material up, exposing the smooth, tan expanse of Leon’s torso. He lowered his head and dragged his tongue along the firm muscles of his abdomen, causing Leon to catch his breath violently in reaction.
“Holy shit, D,” Leon gasped, “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I believe it was you, Detective,” D breathed, a saucy smile dancing along his lips. “And I’d like you to do so again.”
Fumbling a little in his eagerness, D reached for the button fly of Leon’s jeans and undid the first two buttons before Leon laid his hand over his. “Wait, D,” he rasped. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t know if this is such a great idea.”
D’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, “Why ever not, my dear Detective?”
“Well, you know,” He gestured helplessly toward his left arm and the sling. “I’m kind of out of commission here.”
“Not so,” D corrected, then, smiling mischievously, he kissed him sweetly on the tip of the nose, then his lips. “Relax, Detective,” he said, then turned his attention back to those pesky buttons. “And just leave everything to me.”
Bemused, but also highly aroused by D’s unusual aggressiveness, Leon settled back against the pillows and watched as D unfastened the last two buttons of his fly. Then, gripping both the waistbands of both the jeans and his underwear in his hands, he tugged them lower on his hips with a light grunt of effort.
He glanced up toward Leon, “If I may have a little help here, Detective?”
“Uh, sure, no problem,” Leon mumbled and carefully scooted lower so that he was lying on his back with only his head resting against the pillows, then lifted his hips in an obliging manner.
“Thank you.” D quickly skimmed the material over Leon’s hips and down along his long legs. “And down,” he said, patting his bare thigh to indicate that he could lower himself back onto the bed.
“Hey,” Leon replied a bit shakily, “don’t mention it.”
With ease D slid the denim over Leon’s feet then dropped them with surprising carelessness over the side of the bed. After a few moments of internal debate, the socks soon followed.
Naked but for the hospital Johnny that D had pushed up to expose his chest, Leon watched with amazement as D cupped his cock in his small hands and nuzzled his check against the velvety softness of it. Smiling as if amused, he then gently puffed his breath, hot and moist, along the length which brought Leon’s erection to full attention.
After a few moments of scooting around, D maneuvered himself between Leon’s muscular thighs and rolled his eyes up to see the expression on his lover’s face. Those beautiful blue eyes were a touch wide and ruddy color had seeped across the angles and planes of his face. A fine sheen of perspiration glossed his forehead, but this time it wasn’t from pain. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and his tongue darted out to moisten his slightly parted lips.
Tucking his dark hair behind his ear, D lowered his head and took the tip of Leon’s penis into his mouth. He smiled as a small strangled sound escaped the other man’s lips and he found that he rather enjoyed pleasuring the detective, enjoyed being the one that caused him to make such exquisite sounds. Smugly, he opened his mouth a bit wider and wrapped his lips around the head and shaft of the straining cock.
Leon’s body tensed and his back arched as the moist heat of D’s mouth engulfed him. Unable to take the lead, he laid there, his good hand fisting the bed linens, and abandoned himself to the marvelous sensations that were rocketing through his body straight to the pleasure center of his brain. In the two years he had known him, Leon had never once dared dream that one day he would be pleasured by the mysterious and elusive Count D. And now that it was actually happening, he found it to be one of the most erotic moments of his life.
What D lacked in experience – his teeth scraped once along Leon’s shaft, which caused him to jerk and cry out in shocked surprise - he made up for in enthusiasm. As he kissed, nibbled and sucked his partner into a state of delirium with his mouth and lips, he teased his fingers along the firm curves of his balls, marveling at the soft flesh, the marvelous textures.
As a hermaphrodite, D had the sexual reproductive organs of both the male and female, but he had never had cause – or felt the need – to explore his own most intimate parts. Though he had felt his share of sexual urges since coming of age, he had stubbornly ignored such base desires, theorizing that if he did so they would eventually go away. And until he had met Detective Orcot, this had indeed been the case. But now, sexually aware and aching with desire, he craved to touch and be touched.
Caught in the heat of the moment, he pulled away from Leon as his free hand parted the folds of his sleeping robe, slipped between his legs and touched where he had only touched through necessity. His chest heaved as he struggled to slow his heart, his breathing, but then the air caught sharply in his throat as he wrapped his hand around his own neglected cock and hesitantly mirrored the hand movements he was currently practicing on the detective.
“Oh,” he gasped quietly, then again, “Oh… my.”
Slowly, as he stroked himself, as he grew increasingly aware of the pleasure that began to spiral and build within him, D explored his own body with one hand, while he pleasured Leon with the other. When he found one spot or a particular sort of touch enjoyable, he tried repeating it on his partner. And he was enormously pleased when, more often than not, Leon indicated with heartfelt moans and jerks of his hips that he liked it as well.
D’s orgasm ripped through his body hard and unexpected, digging sharp claws into him and bowing his back as it exploded, causing white stars to dance before his eyes. Biting his lower lip in a desperate effort to keep from crying out, he collapsed against Leon and lay there senseless for several moments, gasping and trembling from the sheer strength of his release.
“D, hey, D,” Leon patted his cheek gently to rouse him. Slowly D’s eyes cleared and became more focused. He blinked at Leon and offered a lazy smile. “Are you alright?”
“Never better,” D sighed and kissed Leon slowly and deliberately on the mouth, brushing his tongue along his lower lip before pushing himself up. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“Hey, you know, I’m good,” Leon murmured, “Really. I can take care of the rest by myself.”
“Nonsense,” D replied softly, brushing his half-hearted protests aside with a smile. “I want to.”
Suddenly his breath caught and his mismatched eyes flew open wide. He replayed the words he had just spoken in his mind. Sitting up, he threw a leg over Leon’s torso so that he straddled him. Then he repeated the words aloud, awed and just a touch scared. “I want to.”
Grinning like a fool, Leon settled back and prepared to be taken for one hell of a ride. “Sure, D, whatever you want,” he replied easily. “But if you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was ask.”
D leaned forward and kissed Leon with a fervor that left the detective breathless. “I want to do this,” he rasped and his face broke into a grin of almost fierce possessiveness. “And I want you, Detective, and only you.”
Oddly touched, Leon cupped D’s face with his good hand, traced the ball of his thumb over those soft lips. “That’s… that’s really something, D, ‘cause you’re all I’ve been able to think about for a long, long time.”
D turned his head into Leon’s hand, pressed a kiss against his palm. “I want you… inside me… right now.”
Hiking the ends of his robe to his hips, D gently took hold of Leon’s shaft, guided it to where he wanted – needed – it to be, then slowly, so very slowly, lowered himself, taking it in, all of it, one inch at a time. There was no pain this time, as there had been before, only the feeling of being stretched, being filled… a sense of completion that he suddenly realized that he must have been unconsciously searching for his entire life.
His head fell back and he fought to control his breathing. “Yes,” he gasped, “like this. Just like this.” A soft sound that might have been a sob escaped his throat as he began to move, slowly, uncertainly at first, then with more confidence as the warmth and pleasure began to build.
Leon gripped D’s hip, arched up into him, matching D’s quickening rhythm with his own. The sight of him, pale and glistening, riding atop him, head back and hands braced against his chest for support thrilled him like nothing else ever had. D’s breath stuttered in his throat and his head lulled forward, his hair falling to obscure the pale triangle of his face. His movements faltered, grew erratic, desperate.
“Just you…” D whispered hoarsely, raising his head to meet Leon’s gaze squarely. “I want this… not for my grandfather… not for an heir.” D’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling another muffled sob that tried to escape and this time it carried Leon’s name on its back. “I want… I want you…”
“I’m yours, D, I’m yours,” Leon panted, sensing that he was near the edge but unable to make it on his own. “Let go, just let go. Let me hear how much you want this, baby. I want to hear your voice.”
He snapped his hips hard, driving deeply into that tight, giving heat as his own orgasm began to peak. As the pleasure ripped through his body, turning his vision white, D’s hand fell away and his head fell back. He screamed as his own climax claimed him, driving him over and beyond that dazzling edge.
As if in slow motion, he slumped forward and onto Leon’s chest, boneless and gasping for air. Tremors wracked his body and his glazed eyes slid closed, black lashes fanning the flushed porcelain of his face.
Once he was able to catch his own breath, Leon clumsily dragged D’s robe up over his shoulder so he wouldn’t catch cold. D cracked his eyes and, exhausted, hummed his thanks and wrapped his arms around Leon’s glistening chest and rested his head just under his right shoulder.
“…love you…” D murmured as he sank into the sleek, dark depths of sleep.
The words should have been easy, Leon thought as he opened his mouth to reply, but they snagged in his throat and refused to come out. In the end he simply turned his head to the window and said nothing. Oblong bars of pale moonlight tilted across the room to fall across the bed where they lay. D’s breathing evened out, took on the slow, even rhythms of deep sleep and Leon had no doubts that he was well on his way to the land of dreams. He only hoped that they would be pleasant.
Sleep, he knew, would not come so easily for him.
For a long, long time, Leon absently stroked his fingers through the dark silk of D’s hair and watched with unsettling apprehension as the silver moon, nearly full, slowly crossed the night sky.
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER 14
Wow, I can't believe I actually wrote this. *clears throat* Needless to say, this is NOT the version that will be showing up on Fanfiction.Net.
As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. *^-^*
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And Leon's conversation with his brother concerns me. Because, of course, the disorder will choose now to show up in his blood... ;.; I'm worried.
Post again soon, you always make my day! <3
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And, yes, you should be worried. I'm going to drag Leon and company through Hell and back again before everything is said and done. *evil grin*
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The explicit sex scene was well written. A job well done XD I've been thinking about this for a while now. If D really conceives Leon's child will the child carry the Lycanthropy Disorder. You have to promise me never to abandon this fic hahaha I'm obsessed XD Thank you for this update. I'll be patiently waiting for your next chapter.
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No. In this story, there are only two ways to get Lycanthropy Disorder - you're either bitten or born with it. Only woman (and less than 1% of the population at that) are carriers and, like hemophilia, the disease I loosely based LD on, symptoms only show in males. D is not a carrier and the only way their child could get LD was if Leon, or some other wolf, bit him. And I think D would kill Leon before he allowed something like that to happen.
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Nope, sorry. haha. If D contracted LD from Leon via a bite he still would not be capable of passing it on to their child. He's not a carrier of the gene and it doesn't run in his family. *^-^*
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Soooo much. XD I squeal every time I see that you have updated it. XD ♥
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I wonder though... Will Leon somehow become a real werewolf? Because I'm reading "Tokyo: Petshop Of Horrors" series and in one story a guy becomes a dog! I wonder if Leon dies do you think "D" will either turn him into a lion or a wolf? Just wondering what you think is all but, I have a feeling if "D" could do that, Leon would be a lion.
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I am so glad you included the hot lemon in here ^^
I like that D feels so strongly for Leon...just waiting for him to reciprocate. Sofu D probably does not realise that he is gonna gain a great grandson and a grandson-in-law LOL
Has the serum worn off? I would think that Sofu would have given a 'good' dose to Leon. He wouldn't have chosen him as D's mate if he knew the serum was about to wear off, right?
Well, whatever the outcome I am enjoying this very much and I await the next chapter....and more hot DxLeon (D is good on top^^)
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Has the serum worn off? I would think that Sofu would have given a 'good' dose to Leon. He wouldn't have chosen him as D's mate if he knew the serum was about to wear off, right?
Yes, the serum has worn off. In chapter four (?) Sofu gave Leon's mother the only dose of the serum that was available even though it was still in the experimental stages at the time. He did warn Mary that there was no guarantee as to how long it would last or if Leon would even live to become an adult. She agreed to the arrangement anyway because she was desperate to save her son.
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