Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Decision ❯ Decision ( Chapter 1 )

Author: raison d'etat (raisondetat@ebonyx.org)

Rating: NC-17

Categories: PWP, AU

Summary: Porn! Don't you wish Leon Orcot would just make up his damn mind and go for it already?

Warnings: Porn! Some non-con elements, too. And oh yeah, genderfuck. If hermaphrodites are not your thing, then this story is not the droid you're looking for. Personally, I don't think it's much of a stretch at all to imagine D as a hermaphrodite (at least for the sake of gratuitous smut); just think of the story "Digital" in volume 4, for which this fic contains some **(minor) spoilers.**

But still, this just might not be your cup of tea. Such is the world in which we live. So for the love of God, do not flame me, okay? Because there is No Time for flames, children.

Disclaimer: Porn! No, wait. I mean, PetShop of Horrors belongs to Matsuri Akino and I am making no money from writing this work of fanfiction.

Author's Note: This was originally going to be a one-shot. Then I realized there was too much smut for one story to logically contain. So it will probably have either one or two sequels. The series will be called "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap." Because…well, there is probably a reason and I'll think of it eventually.

Leon was going for the world record in how long he could balance a pencil on the tip of his nose.

So far he had managed a minute and a half. But what was the standing record? It occurred to him that he probably should have looked that up before he started. Maybe he could ask Jill to check on it for him. But if he opened his mouth, or moved at all, the pencil would probably fall off.

Remaining silent, Detective? Count D's voice whispered in his mind. How refreshing!

The pencil almost fell off. But Leon remembered just in time to keep his head perfectly still. He was determined. He was thinking about the pencil. Not anything else. Just the pencil. No cases. No reports waiting to be written. No loud cops in the break room. Definitely, definitely no D. The universe was pencil-shaped today. He was not thinking.

Because he felt like he was on the verge of making a decision, and he hated that.

Leon lied to himself a lot. Occasionally, he admitted this. There was some stuff about himself he didn't like too much, and some other stuff he tried not to think about, and most of the time he wasn't even aware that he wasn't thinking about it. But sometimes he was so busy not thinking about stuff that he couldn't help but think about the fact that he wasn't thinking about stuff. Like…right now. Hence the pencil.

He got confused sometimes. Who didn't? Sometimes he didn't know what he wanted, and sometimes he couldn't make up his mind, but he didn't get too hard on himself for it because it was human, damn it. But while some people remained in this indecisive mode forever, Leon didn't. Some part of his mind was always investigating everything, always looking for clues, always looking to wrap things up neat and tidy. He hated loose ends. Even in his own head.

So in spite of his own best efforts, he was starting to figure something out, and discovering he had to make a decision one way or the other about it, and it was taking all of his effort just to concentrate on the pencil instead.

He'd think about it tomorrow. Like the chick in the big dress in that long movie. What was it called? That was probably safe to think about. God, he'd hated that movie. Too long. Not enough fighting. Although he seemed to remember a scene when some city had been on fire. That part had been pretty cool.

D would probably like the stupid parts better. And the women's clothes.

The pencil wobbled.

It was okay. He was holding it together. He was master of the pencil universe. He was in total control --

"Leon! Please please please tell me you have the Kellerman report!"

Jesus fuck.

The pencil dropped onto the floor as Leon jerked in his chair. Jill. It figured. She clattered round the corner into his cubicle and then frowned at him. "Did I see a pencil falling off your nose?"

"Maybe," he muttered.

"You're obviously a very busy man," she said, "so I won't keep you longer than I have to, except to say that if you're balancing pencils on your nose and you haven't finished the Kellerman report then I will have your balls for breakfast."

"Chew 'em gently," he said, but he had the Kellerman report. Of course he did. He'd worked on it all last night, in his quest to Not Think about the Other Stuff, before he'd realized that even reports weren't doing the trick and he'd have to switch to the pencil method.

She looked stunned -- more stunned than she should, Leon thought grouchily -- and then pleased. "I changed my mind," she said. "They're not to my taste. Since when have you been Mister Productive? You didn't look like it just now."

Leon shrugged. "I got it done last night."

Jill frowned. "You were still here when I left. How late did you stay?"

"Not sure -- think I left about three."

"Leon!" Jill's eyes widened, and then narrowed in a sly smile. "Don't tell me the petshop was still open."

"I wouldn't know," Leon said, his voice going flat, "since I didn't check."

Jill raised her eyebrows. "Touchy. You avoiding him? You guys have another fight?"

"Jill," Leon said quickly, "are you hungry? Because I'm hungry -- "

"And changing the subject is a no go, but didn't he give it a good try, ladies and gentlemen? Telling, Leon, really telling. You know, you should be careful." She ignored his scowl and patted his shoulder. "Talk around Chinatown is that some cute young window-washer has been stopping by the Count's place a lot. For 'advice' on a 'pet.' You want to watch your turf -- "

"Knock it off," Leon snarled, right before he knocked her hand off his shoulder. Window-washer. That had to be that pimple-faced college dropout jerk who'd glared at Leon last time he'd visited, had nothing going for him, and there was no way --

-- not thinking, not thinking -- no --

"I'm just saying, is all." Jill winked. Then she laughed. "Come off it, Leon. I'm only joking. But you haven't mentioned the Count in a while. I was just curious."

Leon stared up at the ceiling, wishing a pencil was obstructing his view.

"Leon?"

Because his mind had a way of making itself up without his approval.

"Hello? Leon?"

And sometime…in the past few minutes, or even the past few days, or hell, who knew how long it had really been brewing…

"Leon! Are you okay?"

Leon stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "I stayed late last night," he said, "so I think my shift officially ends now. I gotta go. Thanks a whole fucking lot, Jill."

"What?" She gaped at him. "Leon, where are you going? What did I do? What's wrong with you?"

Leon picked the pencil off the floor and snapped it in two. "I made a goddamn decision," he said sourly. "That's what."

And he stormed out of the station, with Jill staring openmouthed after him.

D's outfit looked even more like a dress than usual, if that was possible. It had a full skirt and a big fat bow tied at the front and looked as if it had about five million layers to it. Not the usual high collar, either. Kind of Japanese. Good god.

"How the hell do you get in and out of those things?" Leon demanded, slouching into the petshop with a package held tightly in his hand.

D was -- big surprise there -- busily engaged in setting out tea, his graceful hands darting among the elegant china cups as if he were tracing the surface of a pond, looking for some kind of exotic goldfish. "Detective," he murmured with the usual small smile gracing his face. "You are just in time. And how do I get in and out of what?"

"Your dresses."

"My -- " D's eyes widened momentarily, and then his mask of cool politeness was back on, so quickly it might never have slipped. But Leon had seen it. "I really am tired of telling you, Detective, that my clothes are not 'dresses'…" Sensing an ice storm rising in D's voice, Leon quickly dangled the package in plain view, and D's eyes widened again. Mission accomplished. "You have brought me something," D exclaimed, his voice going from cool to coo in no time flat.

"Yeah, well," Leon said, and shrugged. Stay casual. Stay casual.

"Detective, you really shouldn't!" D said, in a voice that meant 'You should, and more often.' He tore the plain brown wrapping from the box quickly but neatly, and gave a slight gasp at the logo beneath. "Oh…Detective!" He sounded slightly breathless. Leon's heart thumped.

A week's salary, down the tubes. But they were supposed to be the best candy around. "They're filled with, y'know, different stuff," Leon said, rubbing the back of his neck. Actually they were filled with different liqueurs. Some of them even had champagne. Leon wasn't sure how that worked, but the girl at the counter had said they were good.

D, making little burbling noises, sat down at the tea table. Leon bit his lip when he realized D was sitting on the sofa instead of his usual straight-backed chair, but D didn't seem to notice he was doing anything out of the ordinary. He'd opened the box and was staring at the little chocolates in their ruffled cups in delighted confusion, his fingers hovering over one and then another, unable to choose.

"I just think your clothes are too complicated, is all," Leon said, watching D carefully while he was distracted.

"What? Oh, no," D said, waving his hand vaguely while his eyes greedily scanned over the box. "It's just a matter of untying the bow and then everything unwraps. Oh my, Detective, what a dilemma -- I simply can't choose!" He bit his lip, appearing genuinely distressed.

Leon sat next to him on the sofa. That got D's attention, and he looked over at Leon in surprise. Leon just rubbed his chin and pretended to look very thoughtfully over the box, as if sitting next to D for no reason was something he did every day. He even ignored Q-chan's indignant squeak. "Well, there's a little map on the underside of the lid," he said. "Hey, here you go -- kahlua filling. Try this one." He carefully picked up the little truffle between his thumb and forefinger and held it out to D.

He'd always thought D's reaction to candy was a little weird. Okay, a lot weird. It was like sweet stuff triggered some kind of chemical reaction in him that just didn't happen with normal people -- like a drug or something. It was no different now. D's pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and his lips parted slightly as he reached out for the treat. He looked hypnotized. Testing, teasing, Leon pulled the candy away as D's fingers snatched at it. D blinked and made a faint, pleading sound in the back of his throat, his eyes never leaving the chocolate.

Leon took a deep breath and pressed the chocolate against D's lips.

D's eyes widened again, but as soon as the truffle brushed against the tip of his tongue, they closed in bliss. A soft moan came from the back of his throat and he took a tiny bite. Leon watched in fascination as small white teeth cut into the dark brown surface, followed by a pink tongue -- holy shit -- darting out to catch the faint dribbling of liqueur that followed after he'd bitten through the shell. The first taste seemed to soothe away any remaining reluctance, and next thing Leon knew, D had gobbled up the treat, pale cheeks suffused with a faint blush, leaving chocolate smudges on Leon's fingertips.

Leon had a second piece of candy ready before D could recover his senses, and watched in fascination as D ate it, again right from his hand, making no murmur of protest. Oh, yeah. That was what he was looking for. And then -- when D had finished the second one and was starting to make inquisitive noises in the back of his throat -- Leon rubbed his chocolate-coated fingers against D's lips, watching as D whimpered and began to lick them, that soft little tongue seeking out the last traces of sugar until he reached the salt of flesh underneath.

And then Leon kissed him.

It was sort of easy. D wasn't paying too much attention, since he was busy licking chocolate off Leon's fingers like it was going out of style. So Leon moved his face forward, moved his hand backward, D followed his fingertips, and then Leon replaced his fingers with his mouth and he was kissing D.

And D tasted good. So fucking good -- like kahlua and chocolate and something else, something beneath the taste of candy, deep and sweet and cold. And his mouth was really soft, and he smelled really nice, not cloying like perfume or even incense or anything, just sort of -- well, it was nice, anyway. And he'd sucked in his breath when Leon had kissed him, and made a faint little noise that turned Leon on so damned much. And right now he was trying to pull away, but that wasn't in the game plan, so Leon wrapped both his arms as tight around D's waist as they would go and held on for dear life, crushing that skinny little body to him, trying to kiss him even harder.

But then D wrenched his face away. "De-de-detective!" He was gasping for air, his face turned aside, as flushed and discomposed as Leon had ever seen him. His eyes looked a little wild, and there was no trace of his habitual smirk, or even the childish delight he always displayed around candy -- he looked genuinely shocked. Unnerved. Leon, coming back to himself, finally noticed that Q-chan was buzzing around his head and trying to pull out his hair.

Shit. There was no way -- those glances, that smile, the teasing, the tea -- there was no way Leon could have misread -- could he -- ?

Just as panic was about to set in, quickly followed by a sprint for the door and plans never to set foot inside the shop again, Leon found himself shifting his hips forward, pressing himself even closer to D and…oh. Oh.

There it was. D was hard. Not as hard as Leon, maybe, but it was difficult to tell beneath that dress. And Leon could feel D's heart beating against his own, as fast as a rabbit's. And D wasn't quite meeting his eyes. So what the hell was the problem?

"What's wrong?" he rasped.

"We -- you -- " D swallowed hard, still not looking at Leon. Leon risked unwinding one arm from around D's waist, and grabbed his pale, pointed chin, forcing D's face up until they were eye to eye. "Detective -- !"

"Look at me!" Leon ordered, or tried to, but D's face was very beautiful, what with the blush and the swollen lips and all. So all Leon really managed to say was "Look," and then he was kissing D again. D was warm and felt pliable in Leon's arms, his mouth opening under Leon's lips again as if in spite of himself. He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and Leon decided that there was no way he was leaving the petshop without getting naked and sinning healthily first. Q-chan was chittering very loudly in his ear, but Leon batted crossly at the air, connected with something soft and squeaky, and then there was a bounce and a thump. Another feeble, enraged squeak was followed by silence.

"Q-chan?" D gasped against Leon's mouth. Leon muttered, "He's fine," daring to open one eye and seeing Q-chan lolling around on the floor, looking dazed. Hell, that damn bat-rabbit-thing was probably indestructible. And D's lips were so soft, and they were trembling, and this was the weird thing, they didn't taste like lipstick. They weren't smudging either. Were D's lips naturally that vivid color? It shouldn't be possible, but for some reason Leon wasn't surprised -- D was so perfect-looking in so many ways that it wasn't that much of a leap to think that some kind creator had blessed him with just one more charm. Leon took the lower lip between his teeth, pressed down lightly for a moment, felt D arch his back and gasp; and then began to suck gently. Oh, God. Oh, God. Soft, warm, and he wanted to go inside and feel the tongue that had licked his fingers --

I'm kissing D. I'm kissing Count fucking D. My God.

But to his total frustration, Count fucking D pulled away again, gasping, "Will you please listen to me?" And that didn't sound much like D. It sounded frantic, and kind of scared.

"Don't make me stop kissing you," Leon panted before he could stop himself. D's breath caught, and Leon winced because that had been a really stupid thing to say, especially if he was about to get kicked out of the shop for whatever damn reason. He wanted it, D wanted it, why stop the proceedings? Did it have to be complicated? What the hell was D afraid of -- D, who was never afraid of anything? Certainly not afraid of Leon, for fuck's sake.

D looked astonished by Leon's request, but nevertheless pressed his hands firmly against Leon's chest, keeping the most miniscule of distances between them. "Detective," he said, his voice breathless. "I do not know what has brought this about, but it is rather, ah, sudden, don't you think?"

Was that all? "What's sudden about it?" Leon demanded. D stared at him. Well, okay, Leon could see how it seemed sudden for today. He'd walked into the petshop and pretty much pounced. But D really ought to be able to look at the bigger picture. "You've -- we've -- I mean, for months." That hadn't made much sense, but oh well. D seemed to be able to read his mind about every other damn thing, why not this? "C'mon, man, you can't act like this is some big fucking surprise -- "

"Language," D admonished automatically.

"I'll language you," Leon snapped, and bent to kiss him again, but he only achieved the faintest brush of lip-on-lip before D, damn him, turned his head again.

"You are confused," D managed, sounding so out of breath that he was almost wheezing. Leon checked his face in alarm, but the deathly pallor of last Christmas Eve wasn't there -- more like a flush. Leon knew what a flush like that meant. And while he was still pushing at Leon's chest, the rest of his body was limp and warm and agreeable in Leon's arms. He wanted it, the smug little bastard, so what was this really about?

"D," he said dangerously, "are you telling me you're a cocktease?"

"I'm telling you -- a what?" D's face snapped back up to stare at Leon, his eyes widening in outrage. "Excuse me, did you call me a, a what?"

"D," Leon said, as patiently as he possibly could under the circumstances, which he thought was pretty damned good since patience was not his stock in trade, "you have been flirting with me for months. Now we are sitting on a couch and I'm trying to get it on with you, and I know we both want it. This isn't har -- tough to grasp. So my question is, are you gonna follow through, or is flirting all you can do? 'Cause I have to say, that'd be damn cowardly of you."

"Cowa -- flir -- now, just a moment, Detective," D snapped. "What I am having a difficult time grasping is how twenty-four hours ago this very situation would have sent you screaming all the way out the door, and now -- "

"And now it's not," Leon whispered, and bent to kiss D gently on his jaw. The skin was petal-soft. It was late in the day -- how come D didn't have any stubble? Jesus. Amazing. Amazing… "Twenty-four hours can make a lot of difference, D. I made my mind up. You gonna make up yours?" Leon bit very gently down, and then softly kissed what he'd bitten. D made a soft, involuntary-sounding noise, and Leon wondered how he could possibly have gotten any harder just because of that. It was so good, so good… "Want me to make it up for you?"

To be fair, he could understand D's confusion. They'd been doing this dance for so long that it must have seemed that they'd never stop. But when all Leon's dreams were about ripping off D's elaborate dresses and fucking that smirk right off his face, when he spent most of their tea-times half-hard and frustrated, when he tried to jerk off thinking about a woman, any woman, and he could only picture slim hips wrapped in patterned silk and long fingers capped with impossible nails and the most perfect, lovely mouth he'd ever seen -- none of which, in spite of appearances, belonged to a female -- well, he could call a spade a goddamn spade and knew it was time to stop pussyfooting around. Cops couldn't afford to pussyfoot around. If a cop couldn't make a decision on the spot, and stick to it, he was as good as dead. Leon had made his. The rest was up to D.

D, as it happened, was arching and sighing under the ministrations of Leon's mouth, which was still busy at his neck, and Leon's hands, which were beginning to slide up and down his sides, both enjoying and resenting the silky layers of cloth between themselves and D's skin. Leon groaned and latched on to the pulse point at D's throat, sucking hard, wanting to leave a mark. D gave a loud, startled moan, and at the sound of it Leon grabbed his hips and ground their bodies together again. Oh, yeah. That was definitely hard. "Come on," he whispered against the lovely, giving skin that felt even softer than the silk of D's clothes. "Come on, baby, I'll make it good. D, I'll make it so good for you, if you let me." And where was that coming from? the honest part of his brain demanded. He'd never had sex with a guy in his life, and while the Count might be the prettiest man he'd ever seen, he was still definitely a he, if that bulge under all the silk was any indication. Just because Leon had never gotten complaints from women -- well, not after high school, anyway, which didn't count -- didn't mean he'd be any good at this.

Leon told the honest part of his brain to shut the hell up, deciding that if D's little noises were any judge, he was doing okay so far. He knew what he liked, right? It was all the same set of parts, right? It couldn't be that difficult to figure out. Hundreds of guys did this every day. Leon had even arrested some of them for doing it in public. It was probably intuitive or something. He raked one hand down the front of D's chest, managing not to flinch when he didn't encounter the breast he'd instinctively come to expect, and roughly rubbed the heel of his palm back and forth over the nipple he could feel beneath the silk. The other hand grabbed D's ass and pushed their hips together again. And God, what a sweet little ass it was, how many times had he tried not to watch it moving underneath those pretty clothes? He could just about palm it in one big hand.

D's hands flew up and gripped his shoulders with surprising strength. "Detective!" D cried, sounding a little like he was choking on the air. "You -- oh, oh -- you d-do not understand -- you don't, oh my goodness, you…ye -- no…"

Christ on toast. How long was it going to take to talk the guy into this? Leon wasn't very good at talking. He'd always figured actions spoke louder than words. He thought about saying something along the lines of We can try it just this once and get it out of our systems -- that might work, and it was sort of what was percolating along in his brain anyway, the idea a little treacherous, but safe-feeling. But something held him back from saying it. He suspected it was the fact that everything felt really good right now, really right, in spite of all D's twittering. It might not be a smart idea to pre-emptively cut himself off from this in the future -- he already had a feeling he might be wanting more. If D would just come to his senses and…oh.

Oh yeah, that was the ticket. Leon's hand had slipped from rubbing one hip down into D's lap, and had somehow, quite by accident, found the part in D's skirt and stolen inside. And oh glory hallelujah, D wasn't wearing any of those skinny little pants he sometimes wore underneath his dresses -- there was just warm, soft, impossibly smooth skin, and here it was, Leon was touching D's thigh. Touching. D's. Thigh. It was quivering, and D was gasping, and this was the weird part, it was all a little bit…stickier than he would have expected from another guy. Unless D was so hard that he was already leaking all over himself, and wouldn't that be flattering? Well, only one way to find out --

"No!"

Next thing Leon knew, his hand was being forcibly dragged out of D's clothes, his wrist clamped tightly between D's thin, delicate, strong-as-steel fingers. Leon gave a low cry in his throat, and was a little horrified at how it came out -- lost, raw, needful. No. Please, D couldn't make him stop…not when he'd almost touched, not when he could smell, not when he could practically taste in the back of his mouth, that…that…

D's face was as flushed as Leon had ever seen it. His clothes were rumpled. There was definitely a small blue bruise forming on his throat. Leon stared at it, hypnotized. That -- now that was real, even if all the rest of this seemed kind of like a weird, not-entirely-good dream.

"You -- do not -- understand," D ground out, speaking as if to a very small, possibly very slow child. "Detective, regardless of how much you think you do or do not want me, I promise that you are not prepared for this."

"I am," Leon said hoarsely. "D, I am. Don't you -- don't you want it, too?" Was that his voice? He sounded about eight years old. Jesus, how embarrassing. But at least D wasn't meeting his eyes, and that was as good as a confession to a cop who knew how to read the signs of guilt. "I'm ready. I've thought about this." Not much, okay, but enough, surely. "I know you're a guy. It's -- it's not my normal thing. But it's not a problem for me, I just want you and I don't care what you are, I can't get you out of my head -- what the hell are you laughing at?"

Because D was laughing. Under any normal circumstances -- not that this was normal, exactly -- Leon would have been really, really pissed off to find his partner laughing while he was trying to seduce her. Him. Whatever. But this didn't sound like normal laughter; it wasn't even like the genteel titters D produced whenever Leon did something particularly clumsy. This laughter was deeper, harsher, and had an undeniably bitter edge to it. Then D met Leon's eyes at last, and Leon was shocked to see the animosity there, the contempt. He almost recoiled, except that there wasn't much room on the sofa.

"You know I'm a man?" D asked scornfully. "You don't care what I am? Oh, my dear Detective. I knew humans could be foolish, but you, Detective Orcot, have finally surpassed yourself. Are you always so willing to leap, blithely and blindly, into the unknown? Do you always write blank checks for the future?" D shook his head. "Of course you do. I should have expected no better."

"What are you talking about?" Leon demanded, suddenly more confused than angry. Of all the ways he'd pictured this evening going, this particular conversation hadn't really popped up in his imagination. What had he said that was so damn offensive? "D…er, look…I'm sorry I joked about the dre -- your clothes. I like them. I do," he added earnestly, when D barked with that awful laughter again. Maybe he should have laid off the teasing a long time ago, especially since he did like the way some of those robes hugged D's lithe body. "Hell, I'd like you in a potato sack, but you've gotta know you're hot, right? No matter what, right? Just -- tell me what it is I'm not understanding here. I'll prove you wrong. I swear I will."

"I am not a male," D said coldly.

Leon took a moment to process this.

"You're -- not?" he asked after a moment, not sure he'd heard that right.

"No. Nor am I a female, Detective. I am both, or neither, depending on your chosen interpretation -- although I choose to identify myself as a male, for various…personal reasons." D glanced away from Leon's face as he said this, but Leon only half-noticed it, because he was too busy being bamboozled.

"So -- what, wait, you're -- " Leon's face suddenly lit up in understanding. "You're a trannie, is that it?" As D's look went from angry to blank, he clarified, "Transsexual. You know -- you were born one way and you're trying to get to the other side, sort of, you're having surgery and stuff. Is that what you're trying to say?"

"I -- surgery?" D gaped for a moment like a landed fish. Even though it seemed like the room was spinning around him, Leon had to take a moment to appreciate the sight. the normally-unflappable Count brought low was not something to be missed. Then D's mismatched eyes narrowed into jeweled slits. "And if I were, Detective?" he demanded. "I daresay that would affect your desires, would it not? How much more freakish than mere homosexuality -- "

"Is that it, then? Is that what you're doing?" Leon asked flatly.

" -- and how much worse -- what? Oh. Ah." D paused for a moment and looked both angry and chagrined. "Well…no."

"You're not changing. On purpose, with doctors and stuff."

"No."

"So what the hell do you mean, you're both? That's the only way it can happen, you know. Have you been snorting that incense or something? I knew that shit was bad news -- "

"There is nothing wrong with my shop's incense," D said through gritted teeth, "and as it happens, Detective, I am that thing in which you refused to believe when visiting Mr. Jordi's laboratory. I am that medical miracle you declared impossible. And I have always been this way, as have several members of my family, and allow me to say, before you do indeed run screaming for the door, that you are much the greater fool for missing out on it. It is quite an experience, one that doubtlessly you will be too narrow-minded to appreciate, and what on EARTH are you doing, Detective?!"

Leon had yanked his hand from D's slackening grasp, and was moving his fingers, with considerably more care and delicacy, back down to D's lap, fingering the soft folds of fabric. "If you're not just gonna tell me," he muttered, "I don't see why I can't find out for myself." D couldn't mean what Leon thought he meant. There was no such thing as -- as hermaphroditism in humans. Was there? Leon was pretty sure he'd read somewhere that it only happened in certain species. So was D saying that he could naturally change his sex? That…that was impossible. (Leon's hand was now creeping back inside D's robe, was brushing against the inside of one knee.) But what else could he possibly mean…?

D appeared to have frozen in Leon's lap, his protests forestalled at the look of grim determination on Leon's face. Some part of Leon was aware that this wasn't the usual seduction scene, but the rest of him was too focused on his goal to care. He took a deep breath and tried not to be frightened. Scared usually didn't go well with sex. And while it felt good as hell to shake D up, he didn't want him to be scared either.

First, he felt the heat and the damp. D obviously wasn't lying about this part -- the texture, the warmth, the feeling was familiar to Leon from many women's thighs. Not wanting to spook him (or himself), Leon spent a few minutes just stroking those thighs, tickling them lightly with the tips of his fingers, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on the small of D's back. D looked sort of shell-shocked, as if he hadn't quite expected Leon to do this.

But Leon wasn't afraid of what he wanted. Not anymore.

Then, after a few moments of cautious caresses, with D shaking in his arms in spite of himself, Leon let his hand venture farther into the skirt's folds, his hand vanishing into the fabric all the way up to the elbow. His fingertips brushed something that was familiar to him, but that he'd never felt on another person: the tip of a shaft, a spongy, rounded head that twitched gently as he touched it. D's breath hitched and his eyelashes fluttered. Leon blinked, bit his lip, and tried not to feel weirded out. He'd been expecting that all along, right? The shaft wasn't hard anymore -- their argument had probably taken care of that -- but with a little pumping, he could probably fix that up, no prob. They were both young. It shouldn't take much --

But wait. There was something…behind it.

Something moist. Leon took a deep breath and moved his hand away from the familiar-yet-alien territory of another man's prick, slipping his fingers behind the shaft, the soft (God -- hairless?) testicles, to find…wet. Warm. Very wet and warm. That sign of arousal hadn't gone away. With a low groan of disbelief and pure, hot-flaring desire, Leon pressed his fingertips delicately forward, not believing what he was touching, desperately wanting to tear off D's robe and see it for himself. Soft, soft lips that parted at his touch, and then it was a hot liquid slide that was so familiar, his fingertip finding a warm, giving little pucker and slipping up, slipping in --

D's body curved forward and he gave a low, shocked cry. Leon's eyes, which had been staring down in D's clothed lap with some fascination, snapped back up to look at D's face, which was openmouthed and gaping, staring at Leon as if he couldn't believe his own eyes. For his part, Leon could hardly believe his own fingers. So this was what D had meant by "both"…he really WAS both…how was this even possible…

And a small, treacherous part of his mind wasn't shocked. It was celebrating. He's not a hundred percent man after all! So that obviously meant Leon wasn't a hundred percent gay, and that was a good thing, right? He'd probably just been responding to D's female whatsits, pheromones, all along. That had to be it. And fuck, fuck if it wasn't still turning him on when D arched his back and let out a low, deep-voiced moan as Leon continued to explore as gently as he knew how when his whole body was shaking and begging for more. His jeans were so tight they hurt.

"Shit," Leon whispered. There was nothing like this. There was no one like this anywhere, except for D, and he was in Leon's arms. Leon's arms. No one else's. Not some window-washer's, not some high-society slut's, not some wacko cannibal chef's -- Leon's.

"You…you see," D panted, sweat rolling down his brow, for once not commenting on Leon's vulgarity, "you see that you can't -- " Leon slid his wet fingertips out of D and returned to rubbing his thighs, moving his other hand to slide inside the front closure of D's outfit and look for a nipple. When he found it, he tweaked. D yelped, and continued, "Obviously! You see…that you don't, you can't possibly accept this -- "

"I have got to see you, D," Leon moaned, leaning forward to suck hard at D's exposed throat again. "God, I have to. And then I've got to fuck you. Don't say no. You can do that, right? I mean -- " It had felt a little tighter than most women did, that was true. "You can?"

"I -- oh, I -- " Leon slid his middle finger back inside, as deep as it could go, and crooked it forward, looking for that small, rough patch. He found it, rubbed it. "Yes," D gasped, apparently before he could stop himself, head falling forward to rest against Leon's shoulder. "Oh…De, detective…oh..."

"I think you can call me Leon," Leon whispered into the curve of his neck, continuing to move his fingers. The Count's skin was not only soft, it was surprisingly warm. D always looked so, well, so cool, if not downright cold -- more like a doll or a mannequin than a human, too perfect and poised to be real. It was amazing, wonderful, to discover that Leon was about to fuck an actual person and not some Ming antique. "Jesus," he moaned. "I can smell you, D." The scent of sex was rising up between them, warm and thick and touching the very back of his mouth. "You smell so good…and you're so wet…let me take this thing off you, let me see you, let me taste you." Maybe he wouldn't be so bad at this as he'd feared. At least he knew what to do with one set of those parts.

"You're not…disturbed?" D asked weakly, and then his hips jumped when Leon crooked his finger again. "Leon!"

Next thing Leon knew, he was shoving D back against the sofa. Then, before D could do more than squawk in surprise, he bent his head to D's lap and nuzzled him through the layers of the full skirt, using his nose to press against the rapidly-growing firmness there, breathing deeply and trying to get more of that incredible smell. D didn't smell like incense anymore, or even that vague, "really nice" scent Leon had noticed earlier: down here, he smelled like sex, and Leon's mouth was watering. He moved his head back and forth rapidly, listening to D's harsh breathing becoming ever more high-pitched, and then opened his mouth and breathed hotly over the hardness underneath.

D cried out and threw his head back against the sofa, the high arch of his throat gleaming palely in the low light of the shop. His hands scrabbled for purchase, his long nails leaving scratches on the rich brocade.

Leon's hands slid out from under D, where they had been happily employed in grabbing his ass and squeezing, and began to tug at the big bow. "Did you say this thing just unwraps when you pull?" he gasped. That'd be nice. Just like a present. Happy unbirthday, Orcot.

"Unh?" D's eyes were crossed, and he seemed to need a moment to focus as he stared down at Leon, sprawled across his lap and looking up at him in desperation. "Yes -- yes, but, but not here -- "

"Why not?" Leon moaned, and let the bow go, crawling up D's body to press him back down into the sofa and start kissing him again. One hand moved to rub over D's cloth-covered right nipple, again and again. "Shop's closed. Sofa's big." He pulled away to catch his breath and stared down at D, whose eyes were completely unfocused, the pupils dilated. D was flushed and panting, and even his slump against the sofa was graceful as he laid his head against the armrest, hair charmingly mussed, throat and jaw showing signs of mouth-shaped bruises. One of Leon's hands gripped D's knee. The pressure on his own cock was getting to be too much to bear. "Just let me -- I want to taste you, D. Do you like that -- getting licked, getting it that way? I bet I can get you there. I bet I can get my mouth on you and make you forget your own name." Leon kissed D again, and moved to croon softly in his ear. "Let me try, baby, let me try."

D whimpered something, actually whimpered, in Chinese. His eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, and his breath was coming in sobbing pants. He seemed incapable of coherent speech.

"Let me try," Leon repeated, and slid off the sofa, turning D's body towards him and then dropping down to his knees. Maybe D just needed a little persuasion. He slid in between D's knees and then parted the folds of the skirt to look at what lay hidden beneath.

Oh, God.

It was incredible. D's prick, which looked pretty normal if Leon was any judge, lay warm and hard against one perfect, hairless porcelain thigh. In fact, D didn't seem to have any hair anywhere, even where all guys ought to have hair. Unreal. Fantastic. But what really arrested Leon's eyes was the glistening opening behind the (admittedly smaller) testicles, soft and wet and spread out and so vulnerable to his gaze. He didn't feel like he really had the courage to have a go at the, the male stuff yet, but he was pretty damn sure how he wanted to begin with the other set of parts. From this vantage point the scent of D was more than enticing -- it was irresistible, and without waiting for anything else, Leon shoved his hands under D's ass, lifted his hips up to the perfect angle, and dived in.

D yelled something in Chinese, but Leon's hearing was muffled by the press of his thighs. He licked lightly at the soft lips with just the tip of his tongue, coaxing them apart and getting used to the flavor, which was and wasn't like a woman's. It was sweeter than he was used to -- well, that just figured -- but under the sweetness was the familiar tang of sex, and that was what was driving him crazy. Taking a risk, he very gently bit down on one outer lip, holding it between his teeth while he continued to tongue its inside fold. D shrieked again, and Leon's eyes drifted shut as he moved to the other lip. He loved this. He'd always loved doing this to his partners -- the smell and the taste of them, the way everything was so soft and delicate under his tongue, requiring more care than he gave to anything in his everyday life. And D's hips were moving restlessly in his grasp, D's cries lowering into soft moans and whimpers. "Leon," he finally managed, "Leon -- p-please --"

D, begging him? There was nothing better in the universe. It was all downhill after this. Leon decided to see how many more pleas he could coax out before this was over. "Please what?" he whispered, and his breath against the sensitive flesh caused D to arch his back even higher. "What do you like? What do you like best?" He pressed his nose against the tiny nubbin of the clit, and D's labored breaths turned into short, sharp pants. He gave it a quick lick and earned a cry. "Tell me how to get you there."

"I don't -- I -- I -- " D's voice was faint, breathless, lost. Leon looked up, and saw that D's head had fallen back to rest against the sofa, his eyes closed, his mouth open. A soft pink blush was spreading its way up his chest, which Leon could see through the gaping opening of his outfit, up his throat, all over his pale face. He was trembling. It was the most gorgeous thing Leon had ever seen, but D didn't seem to be in much shape to answer his question. And Leon's arms were getting a little tired from holding him up.

"All right, then," he murmured, "let's just see how you like this -- " and then he gave D a long lick, as slow as he could make it, pressing his tongue flat and dragging it up from the entrance all the way up to the clit, trying to touch as much of the warm, soft flesh as he could all at once. A low moan started in D's throat when he began, growing in volume as Leon moved upwards, and by the time Leon had reached the tiny, erect little nub, turning his tongue into a sharp, rapidly-flicking point, the moan had turned into a full-throated wail that would have done a banshee proud. His legs were shaking. One of D's hands left the sofa cushions as Leon watched, moved up to rake desperately through the dark, thoroughly-mussed hair, and then down to caress -- oh Jesus -- to touch his own chest, to rest over his heart, to touch one of those little nipples --

Leon swore fluently, and clamped his lips over the clit, giving no quarter and sucking as strongly as he could manage. At the same time, he shoved D's legs more widely apart and thrust two fingers inside, crooking them until they brushed the rough spot again, and that was it, that was it, D was arching his back so hard Leon thought he might break something, and screaming, "Oh -- oh -- OH!!"

He sounded so surprised, so shocked at his own pleasure, that Leon wondered at it for a second. But then he was too busy pulling his fingers out, pulling his shirt off, unzipping his jeans and withdrawing his cock. He couldn't wait any more, couldn't stand the pressure and the need for a second longer. He'd done it. He'd actually made D come. D. Well, half-come -- it looked like the prick was still hard against his thigh -- but D's cries were still ringing in Leon's ears, and dammit, he had to fuck him right now. It was like it was all happening in a dream…D was spread out before him on the couch, breathless and half-naked, looking nothing at all like the immaculate, perfectly-poised petshop owner -- looking a lot more like an offering. Leon wasn't one to turn down an offering.

He bent and kissed D hard on his panting, open mouth. His lips were so soft, so soft… "Perfect," he whispered against them. "Just perfect…" D made another whimpering sound that went straight to Leon's groin. "Oh. Oh God -- hold on, D, just hold on to me tight -- " And without any more warning than that, he was pressing inside, groaning into D's shoulder, trying not to lose it instantly at the wet, hot, tight clasp around his cock. It seemed impossibly smooth, the way made easy by D's orgasm, his relaxed muscles, the copious wetness. And ah, God, this was it, he was inside D, where he'd wanted to be for so long, for much longer than he'd been willing to admit to himself. D wasn't hidden from Leon anymore. There were no secrets between them that mattered now. He barely noticed that D had gone rigid, that D's fingers had clamped down tightly on his shoulders, that D's breathing had stopped altogether for a moment before resuming in a shattered cadence. It didn't seem to matter much, not now, when Leon's whole body was on fire.

And what fire it was. This was weird, it was wild, pushing forward until he was inside balls-deep, and feeling another man's prick hot and hard against his stomach. "Oh, D," he whispered, pressing kisses into the soft dark hair at the side of his face. "Oh, God, D. There. There we are. Oh. You -- okay?"

D took a shuddering breath beneath him and whispered, "Ye-yes."

Leon remained still, trying not to move in case the slightest twitch caused him to explode. He took deep breaths, tried to think of crime stats, and bent and kissed D's hair again, tenderly stroking the side of his face. "You feel so good."

"I do?" D asked faintly.

"Yeah. So good. The best." Leon suddenly realized that D also felt…small. Small and thin and kind of delicate beneath him. Christ, he was practically crushing him on the sofa. D had wanted to move, but Leon had just gone ahead and…shit. This couldn't be as comfortable for D as a bed would be. Nice going, Orcot.

A few deep breaths later and Leon was ready to do something about it. He didn't want to blow it this far into the proceedings, after all -- he was already hooked enough on the smell and taste and feel of D's body to know that if he wasn't allowed to have more of it in the future, he might just have to jump off a building. But pulling out of that warm haven wasn't an option either. He didn't think he had the willpower.

"Wrap your legs around my waist, baby," he husked into D's ear, praying that he had enough self-control -- and enough upper-body strength -- to pull this off. "We're gonna move this somewhere more comfortable."

"We are?" D's voice was still low and shaky, and it was throbbing with something unidentifiable. A small part of Leon's psyche thought that he should try to understand that better, that something was a little bit off about D's reaction, but it was overwhelmed by the rest of Leon's brain, which mostly wanted to get on with things. "What -- where?"

Leon bent down, feeling a strange mixture of remorse and lust, and pressed gentle kisses to D's shoulder where the material had slipped away. He wondered briefly at the picture they would present to anyone who wandered in, and hoped like hell that nobody did, because he didn't think he'd locked the door behind him. Himself, his shirt off and buried deeply inside a half-dressed Chinese hermaphrodite -- that was the kind of gossip that would rocket through Chinatown within minutes. Seconds. And D obviously didn't want his…condition made public.

Suddenly Leon didn't either. This was private. This knowledge was for him, and him alone. Nobody else was going to know the secret places of D's body, the hidden, sweet perfections underneath his cool exterior. Nobody.

"Where's your bedroom?" he whispered, petting D's hair, moving his hand down to caress one slender hip. Another plus to the bedroom -- they could actually get naked. He already had a pretty good idea of what was under all that silk, but he wanted to see it for himself, the endless limbs of porcelain, the impossible flawlessness.

"D-down the hallway," D managed, "the…ah…the third door on the right…but how will we…" Leon reached down and lifted one of D's slim legs, encouraging it to wrap around his waist, making D cant his hips so that Leon slid even further inside. "…ooh," D finished, head falling forward to land on Leon's shoulder. "Oh…oh my…"

"You gotta stop talking like that, D," Leon gritted as he wrapped the other leg around himself. "Or we're never gonna make it off the couch. C'mon, now -- arms around my neck -- hold on -- " Then he got a good grip on D's ass and stood up as carefully as possible, bringing his lover with him, wrapped around his body like ivy.

It wasn't nearly as difficult as he'd expected. D seemed impossibly light, even for such a little guy. For a crazy moment Leon wondered if D's bones were hollow, like a bird's. They held their position for a moment, swaying a little bit, Leon swallowing harshly and trying to get his bearings, since all the blood his brain normally used was currently concentrated in his cock. Think of something disgusting. Slugs. Worms. Worms…corpses. Hell, think of those damn man-eating rabbits…

D trembled around him and sighed softly into his ear. "Detective?" he whispered inquiringly.

Leon shuddered at the low sound of his voice. "I'm okay," he said. "Call me Leon, goddammit. Okay, you holding on tight?"

D made a low noise in the back of his throat, and tightened the grip of his legs and arms -- and then tightened his body's grip on Leon's cock.

"Oh, Christ!" Leon almost fell over, but staggered and caught his balance just in time. "You little -- oh God, I'm gonna get you for that, D." He felt D's lips curve into a tiny smile against the skin of his neck, felt the impossibly long eyelashes fluttering softly. Was the bastard smirking? Now of all times? Okay, that was it. Leon took a deep breath, kept the memory of rabbits firmly in his mind, and began to stagger as best he was able towards the hallway. It figured that it took something like this for D to actually let him into the back of the store.

Every step was perfect torture as his movements shifted him inside D, sent the silk of D's clothes fluttering against his bare chest, made him feel as if he had a fever all over. D clung to him like a lifeline, holding as perfectly still as possible, as if afraid that he might send them both sprawling with another teasing movement. At first he was silent except for his labored breathing, but as Leon gained entrance into the hallway from the main room, he made a faint, sobbing noise in the back of his throat. Leon stopped at once. "Was that a good sound or a bad sound?"

"What?" D managed. "Oh. Ah…oh. I'm...I'm fine..." And then Leon felt small, even teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder while D muffled another noise.

"You sure -- "

"Yes…it's just…" D moaned into Leon's flesh, sounding surprised. "It feels…it feels good when you move…and I…" his inner muscles trembled and quivered around Leon. "Oh, and I -- I feel -- I need -- c-can't -- "

"Fuck," Leon groaned, and turned them aside, shoving D up against the wall, trying not to knock over a nearby potted plant. "You hold on, D, and I'll take care of you…ah, God!" He braced his legs apart and used the leverage to thrust up more deeply into D, although he couldn't manage to go much further in at this angle. D tossed his head back until it smacked into the wall, and let loose a soft, high-pitched cry. Leon wished he could reach between them, rub D's clit, or even his prick, but he needed both arms to hold D up. Maybe he should try and make it to the bedroom after all. "Should I -- you think you can -- "

"Again!" D wailed, his eyes closed, his face contorted as if he was in pain. "Do that again!"

Well, screw the bedroom then. Leon braced himself and thrust once more -- and then D convulsed around him like a wild thing, muffling his shriek in Leon's shoulder, his hair soft as silk against Leon's cheek. Leon felt the contractions around his cock, the warm rush of fluid, and, incredibly, the remaining firmness of D's prick. God, that thing had to be hurting by now -- his own was nearly killing him -- what the hell was it like, anyway, coming in one set of parts while being frustrated in another? And what could they do about it in this position?

"Leon," D moaned when he had finished, sounding desperate, lost. "Leon. The bedroom…"

One last run, Orcot -- give it that old college try -- With the mightiest effort he had ever exerted in his life, Leon got them upright again, pulling D against him and away from the wall, and then staggering down the hallway, mumbling old sports scores into the messy strands of D's hair, determined not to come until they both had a bed under them. He wasn't sure he had enough wits about him to count the number of doors. "Tell me when."

"H-here -- "

Leon didn't even look around him, no longer curious about the shop's corridors, just stumbled through the open door and saw a bed. Thank God. With an eye toward not spraining anything, especially right now, he backed up until the backs of his knees hit the mattress, then sat down with D in his lap, impaling himself even further and wrenching hoarse moans from both of them. D's arms and legs were still wrapped tightly around him, his face still tucked securely into the curve of Leon's neck, and he was panting. "Kiss me," Leon begged, nosing at his cheek. D raised his head, his eyes closed, and they kissed deeply, sloppily, Leon not giving a damn about technique or finesse, just wanting the feel of that soft little tongue against his own. He rocked his hips minutely, and D whimpered into his mouth, so he did it again. And then again, as D shifted in his lap, grinding his hips in tiny circles, pressing down into Leon and obviously enjoying himself, judging from the little noises coming from the back of his throat. He was so wet, so slick, so soft inside…

Their position gave Leon an idea. He carefully scooted them both back more towards the center of the bed, and then lay down flat on his back, leaving D perched on top of him. At the sight of him, Leon had to close his eyes and try very hard once more not to come: D's dress was practically falling off him, with the top part hanging off both perfect shoulders, the skirt parted over milk-white thighs, the whole ensemble held together only by the loosening bow at the waist. One tiny pink nipple was exposed. D's hair was a mess; his lips were swollen and the pristine white flesh of his throat was bruised from kisses. But his face was the biggest revelation of all: now that he was sitting on top of Leon, left to his own devices instead of being squashed or manhandled, he appeared bewildered, as if he didn't know what to do. In that moment, his face looked startlingly young. Leon had often wondered exactly how old D was, though he'd always guessed that they were roughly the same age. Now didn't seem the time to ask, though.

Instead he reached out and tugged on the bow, untying it and causing D's dress to fall open completely, revealing the other nipple and a flat little slope of belly. D gasped, and one pale hand hovered shyly in front of his abdomen, as if seeking to re-clothe himself in spite of their present intimacy. "No," Leon said, begging again. "No, please, take it off."

It seemed to occur to D, then, that he had the upper hand for the first time since Leon had entered the shop. He blinked slow, catlike blinks, and the moue of confusion was replaced with the more familiar, slow smile -- though maybe it was a little more wobbly than usual. He made a low noise in the back of his throat that seemed to rumble all the way up from his chest, very like a purr. Leon's breath hitched. He couldn't take his eyes off D. Not that this was really different from normal, or anything…

D lowered his head, peeping coyly out at Leon from the dark fringe of hair that fell across his face, and traced the line of his open collar with one long-fingernailed hand. He squeezed his muscles gently around Leon's cock, and Leon had to close his eyes so he could watch the stars dancing in front of them. "D," he groaned. He pried his eyes open again, and he was so glad he did, because D arched gracefully, threw his head back, shrugged his shoulders, and the robe ran off him like water. Leon moaned softly at the sight; he'd been right, he'd been absolutely right, every inch of that skin was pale and perfect. And it was warm, and so responsive underneath his hands and mouth. Though delicate, D no longer seemed remotely like a doll or mannequin, but he still wasn't anything Leon could manage to fit into his own experience. He was more like a -- like some kind of spirit or something that only looked human. How could the man above him even be real? It was a stupid idea, especially for this particular moment, but he couldn't shake it off.

Leon noted, with a mixture of guilt and pride, the small blue bruises around both of D's hips that were shaped like fingertips. One of his shoes had apparently fallen off during the trip to the bedroom, but the other one still graced his left foot, a slender slipper of black brocade. Leon's hips jerked at the contrast it made with D's snowy flesh. Was this how fetishes got started? Probably.

"You are still dressed," D whispered, his cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, seeming at turns mischievous and shy.

"I know. Just my pants. Don't stop, though, don't stop…"

"Detective," D said, his smile's effect slightly marred by the way he was trembling, "I have no intention of stopping. But what…what would you like me to do?"

Was D just teasing or was it possible he didn't know? Leon couldn't scrape enough wits together to decide. Instead he put his hands on D's hips, a little more gently than before, and entreated, "Just move, baby, move. Whatever feels good. However you like it."

D blinked, bit his lower lip, and leaned forward, placing his slender hands on Leon's chest to balance himself. It really was lucky he hadn't gotten clawed yet, Leon realized, considering what they'd been doing and the absurd length of D's nails. D rocked a little bit, shifting his hips back and forth, moving around Leon in tiny increments and also rubbing against the rough fabric of Leon's jeans. The little movements, just enough to stimulate him without bringing him off, were enough to drive Leon crazy. "Is that," he managed, "that what you like? D?"

D panted. "I like -- I want -- more."

"Me too. God, me too. How do you want it?"

"I mean -- this is not enough -- I liked it when you moved more than -- ah!" D's eyes widened, as if someone had just waved a pastry under his nose, and then he rose up, nearly pulling off Leon entirely, before lowering himself back down in a slow, liquid slide. His head fell back on his shoulders as he cried out softly, his muscles fluttering around Leon, his throat working, and Leon knew he was close again.

"Oh yeah," he choked, wanting so badly to come, but wanting to watch D even more, "you're doing it, D, you're fucking perfect, do it again, baby, as many times as you can take it -- "

"Leon," D whimpered, continuing to move, rising and falling, his breaths turning to tiny cries in his throat. Leon's hips were moving too, chasing after that warm haven when it tried to pull away, driving up into it when it re-descended. "I…you…"

"It's so good," Leon gasped, trying not to close his eyes, even though colors were flashing in front of them. He couldn't remember ever being this desperate and still holding himself back before. But he couldn't give this up, couldn't end it yet. D was amazing, fucking himself on Leon -- the sleek body of an angel and the movements of a devil, and, somewhere in the middle, a very human vulnerability to it all. He was writhing on Leon now, moaning desperately, obviously close but not sure how to get himself there. Leon uncurled one fist from grabbing the sheets and reached out. It wouldn't take much, he'd just --

But before he could, one of D's hands left Leon's chest, fluttered down his body, wrapped tentatively around his own shaft. At the touch of his fingers, D froze, and his breath hitched. So did Leon's. Oh, God, so unbelievably hot -- "Do it," he heard himself urging, "do it, oh yeah, do it!" D did not appear to need his encouragement, although his movements were not as strong and sure as Leon might have expected; he caressed himself slowly, hesitantly, his head dropping forward so that his chin touched his chest. He wasn't moving up and down anymore, but had pressed himself as far down on Leon as he could go, and was grinding and squirming, as if seeking to feel every inch of Leon inside him while he touched his own prick. "Ah," he moaned, "ah…ah…ai ren…"

Leon couldn't stand it anymore. It was so good, too good, it had to end now or he'd die. He reached out and placed his hand over D's, clamping down and squeezing, dragging D's hand up his shaft in one firm stroke. D's head flew up to stare at Leon, his eyes widening, his lips parted in a tiny O, just before he gave a great shiver. And then he shouted and came, warm fluid spattering Leon's chest.

It should have felt weird, another guy coming all over him like that. It should have felt gross. There was nothing in it that should have prompted Leon to grab D's hips and flip him over on the bed, using the new leverage to drive in and out of him like his life depended on it, growling wild, nonsensical things over and over, but that was what happened. D made a choking sound in his throat and, unbelievably, Leon felt the female part of him coming again. He'd never felt anything like this with anyone before, never felt another person so responsive and alive to him, so perfectly in synch with him, and he couldn't stop babbling --

"Oh, D. Oh, baby, I'm fucking you, and you're letting me, you're letting me fuck you, baby -- "

D hissed something in Chinese that Leon didn't catch, craned his head forward, and sank his teeth into the flesh at the center of Leon's chest. It hurt like hell for a second, and then D licked the bite with that soft, sweet tongue.

Leon gave one final, desperate, hard thrust before he froze, too breathless to make any noise, his hips moving in tiny little jerks as his balls pumped themselves dry in the greatest orgasm of his life. He and D clung together in silent shuddering, D's legs wrapped once more around his waist, his hands clutching Leon's shoulders. It seemed to go on forever, that moment, and even though Leon knew this kind of pleasure would eventually kill him, he didn't want it to ever stop.

But eventually it did, as it had to, and he realized he'd collapsed on top of D. With an apologetic grunt, he rolled over, their bodies still twined together. Now that he wasn't so completely preoccupied, he was able to realize how nice it felt to have their bare skins rubbing together. Well, half his skin at least -- he was still in his jeans, which he was pretty sure were ruined by now. He'd have to stop by his apartment before he went in to work tomorrow.

They lay like that for a moment, D slumped like a sack of potatoes against Leon, his long arms draped around Leon's neck. He seemed practically insensate. Leon poked him and received a small, startled twitch in response. "'Scuse me -- I gotta -- " He craned over D, reaching for the box of tissues on the nightstand. This stuff wasn't going to be pleasant when it dried and stuck them together. He wiped the two of them off as quickly, but thoroughly, as he could manage, and by the time he was done, D appeared to have returned to himself a little more. He was blinking, anyway.

Certain other things were finally swimming into Leon's consciousness as well. D's breaths were soft and uneven, trembling into the curve of Leon's bare throat. He was shaking a little in Leon's arms. And now that other, more urgent needs had been satisfied, Leon was able to remember small details that hadn't seemed significant at the time: D's hesitation, his startlement, the way he'd gone entirely still when Leon had entered him on the sofa, the way even his own touch had seemed alien to him. A horrible thought occurred to Leon then, replacing the warm satisfaction in his stomach with cold panic, and he laid a gentle hand on D's hip. He slid out of D as gently, if reluctantly, as he could. D made a soft, groaning noise in the back of his throat, and if it had been remotely possible, Leon would have rolled them both over and started again at the sound of it.

As it was, he looked anxiously down between them. No blood, thank God. But still, that didn't always mean… "D," he said, his voice low and hesitant.

D slowly raised his head, his mismatched eyes peering blearily at Leon through the cloud of his hair. "Detective?" he murmured.

He stopped himself from snapping Call me Leon again, and instead asked, "You okay? I mean -- that wasn't -- it couldn't have been -- " he swallowed hard, "your first time, or, or…anything." Because, if it had been, there was undoubtedly a special circle of hell reserved just for Leon Orcot. Even if D had been enjoying himself, that was no excuse -- I'll make it up to him, Leon thought desperately. If he lets me get near him again, I'll be a lot smoother next time.

D blinked, and then coolly raised his eyebrows. The snooty expression that usually infuriated Leon now caused his constricted chest to expand in relief. "Certainly not, Detective," D said archly. "What strange ideas you have."

Thank God, thank God, Leon's conscience was babbling. But now he felt stupid for even asking. What had D said earlier about having sex with hermaphrodites, after all -- "it is quite an experience," or something? He'd obviously known about it.

And how right he'd been. Quite an experience, no shit. Leon let go of D long enough to shuck off his jeans, and then pulled him back into his arms. D was looking at him from beneath lowered lashes, his expression unreadable. But then, his expression usually was. Leon grinned down at him, feeling a warm wave of affection wash through him -- different from the burning desire of moments before, but undeniably pleasant. He bent and kissed D, less urgently now, lingering over his soft lips. D's lips seemed to hesitate under his, and then gave in, opening and kissing back almost timidly.

Leon ended the kiss, and let his head fall back on the pillow, still grinning nonsensically. Sweet Jesus, that had been…he'd sleep well tonight. And he'd get up early tomorrow and go out to get D some jelly doughnuts for breakfast. With extra powdered sugar on top. "Time is it?" he asked, and yawned.

"A little after eight o'clock," D said, without looking at any sort of timepiece. Leon couldn't be bothered to wonder at it. D always knew weird shit like that.

"Late enough," Leon decided. He hadn't gone to bed last night, after all. He tucked D even closer into his arms. "Sleep now?"

D allowed himself to be pulled close, even nestled in of his own accord and laid his head on Leon's shoulder, resting one slim hand over the bite mark on Leon's chest. But he asked, sounding a little cautious, "Detective?"

"Hm?"

"Are you not going to tell me what prompted…this evening?"

Leon snorted, cracking one eye open. D wasn't looking at him, but was instead staring off into the shadows by the bed. It was a nice bed, Leon realized for the first time, if a little girly. Gauzy curtains and everything. "Yeah, I'll tell you. I think too much, that's what."

There was a moment of silence. Then D said, sounding highly skeptical, "Really."

"Yeah. Well, I mean, it was stupid -- the way we were always beating around the bush. Life's too short, you know? No sense wasting more time than you have to."

After a pause, D said, his voice a little faint, "I suppose not."

"Hey -- I never locked your front door."

D sighed, shook his head a little, and said, "Please do not concern yourself. Nobody will disturb the shop."

Leon didn't see the logic there, but when he opened his mouth to protest, something seemed to stop him. It was startlingly easy to believe D about this. He should probably get up and check on things, but…well, D probably knew best, and Leon guessed it was his business if he wanted to get robbed. Still only half-awake, Leon let his eyes travel around the shadowy room, lit only by a few candles on an ornate bureau. Funny -- had the light dimmed since they'd finished making love? It had seemed like everything was well-lit when he'd been watching D move on top of him. He must have been imagining things. And when had the bedroom door closed? How come none of those stupid animals were around? Weird. It was a really nice room, he could tell -- D's grandfather must have a hell of a lot of money to afford all of those antiques, not to mention D's extravagant outfits. And…was that a window up there? Undoubtedly it was, judging by the half-moon Leon could dimly see sailing through the smoggy sky outside. L.A. really was kind of a hellhole in a lot of ways. But how could a window exist in a basement room?

Then he frowned. "That window's really clean," he said suspiciously.

D stirred faintly against his side. "What? Oh…well, thank you," he said sleepily. Then he actually chuckled a little. "You do notice the oddest things, Detective."

"We are naked, D," Leon said, rolling his eyes. "Naked and in bed. You'd think you could call me Leon. But whatever. I just want to make sure that pimple-faced window-washing punk hasn't been sniffing around here. Jill said she heard -- " he bit his lip.

D appeared not to notice his unfinished statement. "Pimple-faced?" he asked, sounding confused. "Window -- ? Are you referring to young David Lee?"

"He's not that much younger than we are," Leon growled. "He doesn't have a damn hope for the future, D. Talk about a waste of space. And he's got no business lurking around this place like he does."

"You are absurd," D said firmly, closing his eyes. "David is a most polite young man, and the Lees are upstanding citizens of Chinatown. And please let that be the end of it," he added, over Leon's half-begun protest.

"All right," Leon muttered, a little mollified -- okay, a lot mollified by the way D brushed his smooth cheek over his shoulder, and patted his chest. His exhaustion was starting to catch up to him again, anyway, and now sure as hell wasn't the time for a fight. But just as he was dropping off to sleep again, one more thing occurred to him. "Hey," he said drowsily.

"Now what?" D asked, sounding faintly exasperated.

"What did that thing you said mean? That thing in Chinese?"

Leon glanced down at D, and was delighted to see a faint blush touch his cheeks. "I said many things in Chinese, Detective, if memory serves."

"Yeah, but I only remember one of them. Sounded like 'siren.' You said the rest too fast to catch." He grinned. "C'mon, spit it out. What do the Chinese say in bed?"

"There is no need to be crude. Though it seems to be in your nature." D cleared his throat. "'Ai ren' is an exclamation, Detective, nothing more. Much like…like 'oh my goodness,' or similar."

"Oh." Leon blinked, and grinned again, closing his eyes. "Goodness my ass…you were cussing your head off, I bet, and you just don't want to tell me."

"I left the swearing to you," D said, his voice a trifle sharp. "Really, Detective, you could do with a lesson in manners. And now, may I please get some rest?"

But he received no answer, except for a faint, even whistling of breath. Leon was already fast asleep.

-owari-

Author's Note: "ai ren" is really a Chinese term of endearment. Even kami will just say anything in bed, it seems…
Author's Note 2: No, there will be no mpreg in the future. Relax.