Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ some kind of bliss ❯ Unquiet Heaven ( Chapter 9 )

Welcome to the next chapter -- hope you enjoy it. I didn't want to go so long without updating, but then Real Life stood in my way brandishing a big stick and going, "You shall not pass!".

^*^

D had not known that a kiss could change the world.

He had always thought such notions nonsense, or, at the very least, examples of the fanciful exaggeration to which human beings were so prone. The idea was charming enough, as material for stories went, but foolish. In truth, nothing so insignificant as the brush of skin on skin could bring down the stars or crumble the very walls of the universe, cut loose every anchorage, strip away every certainty and leave one quite adrift. No. It could be no more than fantasy, any of that.

So he had thought. And how mistaken he had been -- how gravely mistaken.

D closed his eyes a little more tightly, and pressed his face a little closer into Leon's chest. A fraction further, and there would be no air left for him to breathe -- only warmth and the smell of human flesh, the only thing that felt solid or real in this moment of confusion, of feeling so utterly lost.

He was still shaking, and could not stop. His hands had curled into fists, clutching at the fabric of Leon's shirt so tightly it was a wonder his nails had not torn holes in it already. It seemed for all the world that the ground had been torn out from beneath his feet and he must not let go, lest he should fall.

Perhaps that was not so very surprising. After all, it was true, in a sense. Before -- even just a few moments before -- he had been quite certain of what he was doing, and of what was going to happen next. He would tell Leon to leave, and not to come back, and Leon might argue, might shout and bluster, but he would go. Of course, D had expected the parting to hurt. To think that it would be easy would have been beyond foolish. But this situation, this… thing -- he was no longer sure what to call it, really -- had still been within his control. It had still been in his power to end it.

He certainly had not expected this. Of course, he had known that Leon would object to being told to leave, but he had never expected that the detective would step outside the confines of their usual game so completely, kick over the traces, rewrite the rules. He had not really been sure that Leon had it in him. A misjudgement on his part, yet again. He appeared to be making rather a lot of them lately.

And now here he was, clinging to this man, this human, as tightly as if there were nothing else left in the world to hold on to, hiding his face against him as though doing so might somehow shut this new, terrifying world out. For it had changed, his world. Quite suddenly, it was no longer the calm, safe magical sphere in which he held near-absolute sway, in which every mystery was beautifully ordered, clear as daylight, and perfectly within his control. At this moment, all was uncertain. He felt sure that he was going fall -- for all he knew, he was already falling, and he did not know what to do. He did not even know that there was anything he could do.

He was sure no god had ever felt so helpless.

^*^

"No."

It was strange how a little word like that could suddenly seem so important, like it was everything you'd wanted in the world, ever. Leon kept turning it over and over in his head, as though the word might turn solid if he thought it enough times, and then he'd be able to put it in his pocket and keep it. As it was, he kind of wanted to ask D to say it again, just so he could be sure that it was real. Even with D clutched in his arms and still shaking, with that skinny little body pressed up against him, it was all pretty hard to take in.

He'd just kissed a guy. That was weird enough. The guy he'd just kissed was D. Hell, just a couple of days ago he'd have figured that that was enough to earn him a place in a mental institution, or at least a spot on the Jerry Springer show, if it was having a slow week (What would the headline be? My Chinese pet shop hell? Investigating criminal turned me crazy -- and gay!?). Only now -- Jesus fuck -- here he was, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be too bad to do it again.

He had to be going mad. Or maybe he was dreaming. Yeah, that must be it. Any minute now he'd find himself back in his own apartment, awake, desperately in need of a beer, and strictly forbidding himself to remember that he'd dreamed this ever again.

But the way D was trembling under his hands felt pretty real. And the way his lips had felt so soft, and the tiny, spine-tickling noises he'd been making when they'd kissed -- Leon was pretty certain he hadn't been imagining those. Kissing D had been… well, a little terrifying at first, but good. Really good, if he was honest with himself. It had just felt, kind of… natural. Right.

Jesus. That sounded like something out of some cheesy romance movie, or one of those trashy women's magazines that Jill always kept hidden under her desk and pretended she wasn't reading.

But then, why in hell shouldn't it be right? It wasn't like there was any reason he shouldn't be kissing D, or, at least, any reason that couldn't be quickly set aside by pointing out that D might be a guy, but he was the girliest guy Leon had ever met, and that he'd never been convicted of anything so he wasn't technically a criminal. D even seemed to have given up on whatever crazy-ass objection he'd had earlier, or at least given up going on about it for now.

So, yeah. It did feel right. The way D was nestled in his arms felt pretty right, too. He fitted there nicely, and Leon could feel the patter of his heartbeat through his ribcage, shuddering, frantic. And he couldn't be dreaming the way D was clinging onto him, so desperately close, like nobody else ever had, with his eyes shut tight and his slender hands scrunched up into fists, holding onto Leon's shirt so tightly it looked like his nails were going to tear holes in it. (Leon was starting to wish he hadn't bothered putting his decent shirt on after all -- it was the only one he had, and he sure as hell couldn't afford a new one now he'd spent half his paycheck on goddamned expensive candy).

Come to think of it, though, the way D was acting was a little weird. No: it was a little more than weird. Okay, so Leon wasn't exactly going to be writing relationship advice columns for Cosmo any time soon, but he did have some idea of how these things were meant to go. And if you had a thing for somebody, even if you hadn't admitted it before, and they kissed you, you were, generally speaking, meant to be happy about it.

D sure as hell hadn't looked happy when they'd kissed. The expression on his face hadn't been one Leon had ever seen on him before, and there had been nothing that looked like happiness in it, or even the self-satisfied calm that was usually guaranteed to make Leon want to break his nose. It had been more like… well, like some bizarre mixture of panic and defeat, like he'd just looked down from somewhere up in the clouds and realised he was falling without any way to stop.

"D?"

D raised his head slowly, a few strands of hair falling over his face and into his eyes. Leon found himself having to fight with the urge to brush them out of the way, feeling like he couldn't be quite sure he had the right to, yet.

"Yes, Detective?"

Detective? They'd just kissed, for fuck's sake. This guy was unreal sometimes.

"You okay?"

D blinked up at him and his eyes darkened a shade, their expression going a little guarded. Then he lowered his head again, and his gaze flickered downward, away from Leon's eyes.

Oh, no. Leon wasn't going to have any of that, not now -- not right after D had as good as asked him to stay the night, not while D was in his arms and clutching onto him like he was trying to stop himself from drowning.

He took hold of D's chin with one of his hands and tipped his head up, as carefully as he could, gently forcing D to look at him.

D's eyes still held that dazed, lost look they'd had a couple of minutes ago, even if he was shaking a little less now -- still that weird, dizzy helplessness. Leon could feel D's breath brittle in his chest where their bodies were pressed together, quick and nervy.

And God, everything about this felt so fragile. Suddenly, every little word or touch seemed kind of dangerous -- like they were standing in a bubble, and one false move was going to burst it and send them both tumbling through space.

D's lips parted, still trembling, still damp from kisses and shining a little in the dimness; the breath caught in his throat.

Falling --

"Kiss me again."

His eyes fluttered closed, and Leon did kiss him again -- because how the hell could he not? -- and decided that questions could wait a little longer. Less urgently than before, though, now he felt closer to sure that D wasn't going to jump back scared again, or turn round and kick him out of the shop like last night. Just… exploring, he guessed, since D was still doing that whole not-kissing-back thing and sitting there letting himself be kissed instead. That was weird, too. Not exactly bad, but weird. He just wouldn't have expected D to be so… well, so passive, he guessed. After all, hadn't he been the one doing the flirting all these weeks, or months, or however long it had really been going on? It was almost like he wasn't quite sure what to do now that they'd gotten past the flirting stage.

That almost figured. After all, D sure as hell liked teasing people. Maybe he just wasn't as into any of the stuff that came after, when things started being more than a game. (More than a game? Already? Leon couldn't quite believe his brain was coming up with this shit. He had to be going crazy).

Or maybe D really wasn't all that sure what to do next. He always seemed to have plenty of admirers, sure, but he'd never really seemed all that… well, close to any of them. Maybe he hadn't been into guys before, either -- though that seemed pretty unlikely somehow. Maybe he just hadn't dated that many people or something. Christ, how old was D, anyway? Leon'd always assumed he was a couple of years older, just because he acted so goddamned superior and know-it-all all of the time and talked like a goddamned schoolteacher, but when you thought about it he only actually looked about twenty. Not even that, when he wasn't smirking the way he normally did. Aw, shit -- that was another thing Leon really ought to find out before they -- well, before anything else happened, or --

D let out a soft sigh, and Leon decided that that didn't have to matter right now.

After all, he'd learned some time ago not to expect anything even remotely normal from D. And D had been the one who asked Leon to kiss him, goddammit, and he wasn't unhappy about it, if the little whimpering noises that were starting to escape from him again were any indication, and Jesus fuck, he tasted good. Some of the sticky sweetness from the fruit tart was still clinging to the corners of his lips, but it wasn't that, it was something else. Something that was warmer and not as sweet or artificial, that wasn't sugar, that was just… well, D, he guessed. And he couldn't help wanting to chase it, wanting to search out every corner of that soft little mouth with his tongue -- and D was just staying there, quite still apart from the trembling, and letting it happen, letting himself be explored. His breathing quickened a notch, his fingers tightened their grip on Leon's shirt so slightly you'd hardly have noticed -- and that was all. Only it wasn't like kissing a statue, or a dead thing, or anything like that, the way you might have expected. D felt warm and alive, and as for those little noises he kept making -- well, those were certainly a reaction, and Leon wasn't sure he could ever have hoped for a better one.

So… weird? Yeah, sure. But right now, Leon wasn't complaining.

His legs were starting to ache from standing up, though, especially since he seemed to be supporting most of D's weight (even if it wasn't much) as well as his own. So he kept one of his hands on D's waist and stepped back towards the couch -- careful not to knock over the coffee table, because he could just imagine D throwing a hissy-fit if he did, even at a moment like this -- and then sat down and pulled D into his lap. D had still had his eyes shut, and he gave a tiny gasp of surprise as his legs gave way under him and he slid forward, one leg on either side of Leon so his dress rode up around his skinny hips, and --

Fuck.

It looked like Leon had gotten a better reaction, after all. D looked a little shocked, and shifted his hips back, quickly -- a little pointlessly, considering the compromising position they were in anyway -- but there had been a definite, well, a definite something there, underneath all that silk. Something that felt a hell of a lot like the stirrings of a hard-on. And -- this was the really strange thing -- Leon wasn't feeling freaked out by it, the way he should have done. After all, this was proof that D was a real, actual guy, not just a girl who was pretty enough for it not to matter that she didn't have any boobs. Hell, it was difficult not to think of him that way sometimes. But still, Leon just didn't feel all that freaked out, or want to run away (hell no, he didn't want to do that), or anything like that. He didn't even feel all that shocked, to tell the truth; if anything, he almost wanted to smirk with triumph at the thought that maybe D really did want this as much as he did, whatever he'd been twittering on about earlier.

"Detective?"

D's eyes had gone wide again, and there was a slightly worried look in them, not quite like that dazed, confused expression he'd had earlier. Plus, his pale face was touched with pink; not much, just a little flush of it bright along his cheekbones. Was he blushing?

And even that just seemed to make him look more beautiful. Leon guessed he shouldn't have been all that surprised at that, really. It made him look realler, more touchable, less like some sort of painted doll and more like that was real skin, not porcelain. Perfect skin, though. Warm, too, or at least what little of it Leon had gotten to touch. That had been a nice surprise. He'd kind of expected D to feel cool, seeing as he always looked like he'd been carved out of ivory, like there was no way on Earth he could be real. Nobody real could look that perfect all the time, not even supermodels or movie stars, or anyone, except D.

Suddenly, Leon wanted to see more of that skin. So he didn't bother replying, just pushed back the stiff collar of D's robe thing and bent his head to kiss the skin there, figuring that was good enough for an answer. D seemed to agree, judging by the way he closed his eyes and went limp in Leon's arms, and gave a soft, almost-surprised-sounding "Oh" that faded into another sigh.

Here, D didn't just feel surprisingly warm; his skin was hot under Leon's mouth, his breathing panic-rapid, except that Leon was pretty sure it didn't have much to do with being scared.

Leon flicked his tongue over the place he'd kissed, tasting something that wasn't sweet, the way D smelled, or as salty as most people's skin, but hot and clean and not at all unpleasant -- then dared to press down with his teeth, just gently, not enough to leave a mark even though he almost wanted to, really. And D made a tiny animal-noise in the back of his throat and tipped back his head, baring the rest of his pale throat to Leon's gaze. So he could touch that skin that looked as delicate as tissue paper, kiss it, tease it with his teeth if he wanted --

Only that still wasn't enough. He wanted more.

Feeling his breathing speed up, he leaned forward to kiss D's neck again, scrabbling at the stiff, fussy fasteners on the front of his robe with fingers shaky from nervousness and need. D still had his eyes shut, was still whimpering softly, and Leon had managed to get the first four of them open before D seemed to really notice what he was doing.

Then Leon felt his hands being batted away with surprising force, and D's eyes snapped open, and his lips parted in shock. He grabbed at the front of his dress-thing where it hadn't quite fallen open and pulled it around himself fiercely, shielding his body from Leon's eyes.

Leon stared at him, too stunned to speak. His throat went dry.

D stared back at him for a few agonising seconds, that worried expression in his eyes again, the colour on his cheeks higher.

"Uh -- " Leon managed, at last. He swallowed, tried again. "Wha -- What's up? Did I do something -- ?"

He trailed off. D carried on looking at him, lost, for another moment before he seemed to find his own voice.

"No, Detective," he said at last, "You have done nothing wrong."

"But then what -- what's the problem? I thought -- "

Only it seemed like saying what he'd thought would sound a bit pathetic right now, so he gave up and just looked at D instead, searching his troubled expression for some kind of clue as to what was going on here. Another beat, and D dipped his head forward, his gaze falling away from Leon's.

"Yes -- and I -- that is, I do not -- It is simply -- " He paused, blinked a few times, and started again. "After last night…"

Oh, God. Shit. Holy fucking bastard fucking shit. Of course. How the hell could Leon have forgotten? D'd been attacked by that giant snake just yesterday evening, and even though he'd seemed okay today, he was covered in those horrible bruises. He was probably still in a fair amount of pain, too. And Leon had been grabbing him round the waist, holding onto him, practically crushing him -- Christ, he must have been hurting him. It was a wonder D hadn't stopped him before now, or even kicked his ass. He'd fucking deserve it. Jesus, what an idiot, what an asshole, what a complete and utter, fucking --

"Detective?"

D was peering up at him, his face still clouded with worry. But he hadn't said anything to suggest he was pissed at Leon, and he was still sitting on Leon's lap, and he wasn't doing any of the things he normally did when he was about to go off in a huff. So… well, at least he didn't look like he was mad.

Which just left Leon to be mad at himself instead. At least he wasn't anywhere near as good at guilt-tripping people as D was.

"'S'okay," he mumbled, relaxing his grip around D's waist considerably -- but not quite letting go. "Sorry. Shit."

It was okay, he guessed, if D wasn't mad at him. He didn't have a problem with taking things slow. In fact, it would probably have been pretty sensible even if D hadn't been injured. This whole thing was pretty new to him, after all -- the doing things with another guy part of it, that was -- and it wasn't like he'd exactly sat down and thought about it beforehand. Hell, what if he woke up in the morning and decided he wasn't too sure about this, after all? He didn't think that that seemed too likely right now, but still, better safe than sorry.

D hadn't exactly had time to think about it either. What if he changed his mind?

Right then, D slid off his lap and onto the couch beside him, his head sinking to rest on Leon's shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologise for," he said softly. "If anything, it is I who… owe you an explanation." A delicate pause.

Leon waited a minute. Then another. It didn't look like the explanation was coming.

"Yes," D continued, suddenly. "An explanation. But perhaps -- perhaps you will allow me a little time, Detective? To… think? I should not wish to trouble you unduly tonight."

I should not wish to trouble you unduly? Jesus, who the hell spoke like that, anyway -- to anyone, let alone the person whose lap they were sitting in? Leon opened his mouth to protest, but D held up a placating hand before he could say anything.

"Only ask me in the morning, and I will tell you anything you wish to know." Another small pause. "Within reason."

"You bet your ass I will," Leon muttered, a little mollified. He guessed he really should have been getting more pissed off -- D saying that he owed him an explanation, then not even telling him what the hell it was he wanted to explain about -- but somehow he just couldn't find the energy to work up a good temper, and if he was honest he was still too relieved that D wasn't mad at him. So he contented himself with a small "hmph" instead, and let his right hand come to rest in D's hair. D's hair was soft, just like his skin; he couldn't resist petting it.

D looked up at him, and quite suddenly, his closed expression was broken by the first genuine smile Leon had seen him give all day.

"Why, Detective," he murmured, "You are far more understanding than I had given you credit for."

"Still don't understand why you can't call me Leon," Leon grumbled. But he didn't stop playing with D's hair.

^*^

D received no more dire warnings in his dreams that night. His grandfather did not put in an appearance, and for that he was grateful. He had had quite enough to think about for tonight, after all.

He had failed, quite miserably, in what he had meant to do. He knew that quite well. Not only that; he had failed in his duty, both as a grandson, and as a member of his species. He had allowed something to begin that was quite unthinkable among his kind, and now it seemed that there was nothing he could do to stop it (though who knew, really, when it had started? He had only realised it the previous night, but it seemed so inevitable, now -- it must have been coming for a long time). He should be quite ashamed.

And perhaps he would be. All of this seemed to have happened so fast -- perhaps it was only that tonight's events had not had time to sink in, to begin to feel real. Perhaps tomorrow morning, real panic would set in, at last.

Somehow, however, he doubted it.

The moment Leon had kissed him, he had lost control of the situation. He had become helpless, quite desperately so, and that frightened him, as it should do -- to a degree. At the same time -- and a tiny part of him had known that this was true, even before he had time to think it -- perhaps he was also grateful. This was everything he had known he must prevent, but the responsibilty for it was no longer solely his. And if he could push Leon away no more -- why, if he could not, then perhaps he did not have to.

Of course, there would be consequences. He still did not know what his father might do -- or his grandfather, for that matter, were he to find out. Those were things that he, and maybe Leon, would have to worry about soon. But tonight, he simply did not think that he could.

He had been grateful, therefore, if a little surprised, when Leon had refrained from demanding an explanation for his behaviour, or asking any other awkward questions. And, he had to admit, being in Leon's arms -- being held, and kissed, and touched so gently, yet with such need -- had done a rather wonderful job of distracting him from his worries. So much so, in fact, that he had almost forgotten himself. How fortunate that he had regained his senses before Leon had the chance to see him unclothed, and to see that his bruises were already healed -- for then, he was sure, questions would have been unavoidable.

Still, he had half-expected his grandfather to appear again in his dreams, his face set with anger and disappointment, speaking words heavy with reprimand and the reminder of D's own recklessness, his failure. But when D finally closed his eyes (Leon sprawled out, still fully-dressed, beside him), the images that greeted him were not of the forest clearing where his grandfather had spoken to him. His dreams were tumultuous, fragmented, a series of images that flickered and changed as quickly as if he were in a fever.

He was in the front room of the pet shop again, watching the darkness as it seemed to curl its tendrils around Leon to steal him away. And then a monstrous serpent with gold and violet eyes reared up out of the darkness and did wrap itself around Leon, and began to drag him away, and --

The image changed, and D was the one being dragged away by the creature, and he struggled, struggled, and could not make it stop --

He was in Leon's arms again, feeling as though he could not let go, or he would fall. He was falling, falling through space, stars and planets streaking past faster than dreams. He was standing in space, looking down, watching Leon fall away from him towards the Earth --

And then, at last, he was back in the forest clearing.

It was still cold; still clear and frosty and still. Quiet, too. No wind, no voices, and no sound like the rustling of leaves. Nothing but the stern, icy glare of the moon, and the stars looking daggers at him from beyond her. He was still quite alone, too.

Suddenly, as he watched, the light of the moon seemed to pulse, to grow brighter -- a cold, cold light that sent chills through his veins, cooled his flesh right to the bone. A slow shiver scraped its nails down his spine.

And the light was so strong -- it was pulsing, stronger -- it was blinding --

Abruptly, it stopped, and the scene was back to normal. D felt breath and warmth return to his body -- but now it was a warmth that he had not felt before, not in this dream, and perhaps not in the everyday world, either. He knew, all of a sudden, that he would not be alone for much longer. Leon was coming to be with him. And, he realised -- contrary to all that had happened, to all that he knew and all that his grandfather had told him -- everything was going to be all right.

^*^

Leon shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. It was way too hot in this place. He didn't see how D could manage to sleep under all those heavy blankets, even when they were just bundled up around his waist like they were now. That was just typical D, steal all the blankets and then not even bother covering himself up with them…

He was managing to sleep, though. Looked pretty far under. Leon wasn't quite sure how he did it, just shut his eyes and dropped off like that. After the weird, worried way he'd been acting, you'd have expected anybody -- or at least, anybody halfway normal -- to be up for hours, stressing out. And even last night, when he'd been attacked by that… thing -- he'd gotten off to sleep like a shot then, too.

Tonight, Leon'd almost suspected he was faking, just to be sure he didn't end up having to answer any questions -- even after what he'd said earlier. He was still clutching tight at the front of his dress-thing with one hand, keeping himself covered up, not letting go. Only D wasn't lying too-still, either, the way people who were just pretending to be asleep did. He'd stir a little every couple of minutes or so, and his face still wore that same troubled expression he'd had when he was awake, like he was having a bad dream or something. Like whatever was bothering wouldn't even leave him alone while he was sleeping. And occasionally he'd make a little, distressed-sounding noise in the back of his throat, so quiet Leon couldn't quite be sure he'd heard it.

He waved a hand in front of D's face, testing, watching the shadow of it fall across his delicate features in the dim neon-and-moonlight glow that filtered through the window. Not a flicker. Dead to the world.

Pity the same thing couldn't be said for Leon.

The room was too hot, and he was still in his daytime clothes, which was damn well uncomfortable enough. But that wasn't it.

Leon's brain was perfectly okay with taking the sensible route, with just holding D and kissing him, and not doing anything… else… for now. He knew rushing into anything serious would be stupid. And D probably would take anything else seriously -- saying he didn't exactly seem like the type to go in for casual sex would be the understatement of the century. So, yeah. Leon's brain was fine with that. The problem was, the rest of his body was proving considerably harder to persuade.

While D had been awake, he'd had something else to concentrate on. There'd been how weird D was acting, for one thing, and all those questions he very definitely would be asking come morning to plan out. Plus -- well, he guessed he'd been being careful not to upset D, or freak him out, or do anything that might make him close up again and go back to acting all distant. Not just because he wanted to find out what the hell was going on, even though that was part of it, but because he'd realised he actually kind of liked seeing D drop his mask of too-cool politeness and act like Leon wasn't just some schmuck who kept bugging him and trying to arrest him, someone he had to humour and be nice to. Like he trusted him. Because -- Because --

Well, he wasn't quite sure why he liked it. He just did.

Only now, lying awake with D so close beside him, the warmth of him only inches away, none of those things were managing to occupy his mind quite the way they'd done earlier. In fact, it was pretty goddamn hard to think about anything, except D. Except D, and how beautiful he looked -- so fucking beautiful, even with his perfect face darkened with worry and his eyes tight shut and his lips still looking a little sore from all those kisses, earlier, and those nervous little sounds he kept making in his sleep. If Leon was lying close enough to feel his heartbeat, it would probably still be skittering like a rabbit's.

And those little noises -- they just wouldn't stop reminding Leon of the way D had sighed and moaned softly when they'd kissed earlier, so that he couldn't help but think about that. And the way that skinny little body had felt so warm, and so totally, absolutely fucking perfect in his arms, pressed against him, so close. And the taste of D's mouth, and his skin. And the flutter of the pulse at his neck under Leon's lips. And the delicate sharpness of his hip-bones. And how much Leon wanted to wake him up right now, wake him up and kiss him until that sad little frown fell off his face and he smiled again, the way he'd done before, and then --

And the tightness in his pants that was stubbornly refusing to go away, no matter how many times he tried telling himself that he was still probably insane and still not thinking straight, and still quite possibly going to wake up in the morning regretting that he'd ever so much as looked at D, never mind kissed him and ended up sleeping in his bed two nights in a row, and then what the hell was he going to do?

None of that worked. Neither did trying to think about paperwork. Or the shit he was going to be in with the Chief if he turned up late again tomorrow morning. Or the shit he was going to be in with Jill if he turned up stinking of BO again tomorrow morning (ah, fuck -- he'd promised to give her a lift to the airport in his lunch hour, too, so she could fly out to her grandad's funeral). Or actual shit. Or dead bodies -- even the ones he'd always thought could be pretty squarely blamed on D. Or any fucking thing.

Not working. None of it. Not one little bit. Nope.

Leon sighed. Maybe he'd get up for while. That'd probably help. He could go stand outside for a bit, and get some nice cold smoggy air. Maybe have a cigarette while he was at it. Or maybe he'd try and find the kitchen and get a glass of water -- he really could have done with a beer, but he somehow doubted he was going to find any lying around in D's fridge. But, Christ, finding his way through this place was complicated enough to take his mind off anything, never mind a measly little bit of sexual frustration. Yeah. That was what he'd do.

He sat up slowly, trying not to disturb D, and D didn't wake up -- he just made a quiet little noise of protest, and kind of wriggled over a little, towards the warm spot where Leon had been lying.

Right at that moment, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds -- or smog, or whatever -- that it had been hiding behind all evening. A little weird that it happened right then. And pretty convenient, too if you thought about it, because --

But Leon didn't stop to think about it, not right then. And he forgot all about going down to find the kitchen, and about how much be needed a beer or a cigarette or a wank or something, and about all the other crap his head had been filled up with all day.

When D moved over in his sleep, it looked like he must have let go of his robe (what did you call those things, anyway? D had probably told Leon before, but he'd forgotten), because the front part of it had fallen open. And Leon could see it, all that perfect skin he'd imagined earlier, clear and pale -- and without one single trace of a bruise.

He blinked. Then he frowned, and peered closer. Still no bruises.

This couldn't be right. No way in hell could this be right.

He shook his head to clear it, and looked again. Still nothing.

So what was going on here? What did this mean -- that those bruises yesterday had been fake, and D had invented the whole story about the snake?

Nah. That couldn't be it. No make-up job in the world could be that convincing. And besides, he'd touched D's bruises, and they hadn't smudged under his fingers -- and they'd felt hot and tender, like they must have really fucking hurt.

So maybe D had managed to disguise them, with make-up or something -- maybe he'd used one of those cover-up sticks, like chicks used when they got spots, or some sort of stage make-up type thing.

But that couldn't be right either. Even with the best make-up artist under the sun, some of it would have come off on D's clothes by now. The skin where those bruises had been just looked… flawless. Untouched. Like they'd never been there.

So the only other explanation was -- but that really was crazy. There was no way, no way on this fucking earth, that D could have gotten better overnight. No human being could do that. It was impossible.

Jesus. Well, that was another question to add to the list he was going to be asking tomorrow morning. It was getting to be pretty long, that list. D owed him an explanation, damn straight. Though this sure explained why D had been so eager to keep himself covered up earlier.

The moon sank back behind the clouds again, throwing D back into shadow. Leon almost went to switch the light on, just so he could check again what he'd seen.

He was on the verge of deciding that the questions couldn't wait until morning and shaking D awake, when D rolled over and kind of snuggled against him again, his frown fading and a soft little half-smile coming over his face. Jesus, when D smiled -- really smiled, not smirked, even just a little bit like that -- it was like… like lighting a candle or something. He just kind of brightened, and looked even more beautiful, if that was possible. He was just --

Oh, fuck. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

Leon groaned as he sank back down onto the mattress, letting one of his arms slip around D, because he just couldn't not. And he couldn't wake D up. He just couldn't, not when he looked so -- so --

Wrapped round the guy's finger, even when he was asleep. Asleep, for fuck's sake.

He guessed this was what being under the thumb meant.

^*^

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