Chapter 2

They lay twined together, panting in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Despite the angel's natural immunity to the dangerous allure of the incubus, sex between them was always wildly passionate and incredibly draining. The seraph dredged up the energy from somewhere to stroke gently along the demon's back, knowing how much his lover appreciated the petting just after sex.

The incubus arched into the touch as he always did, purring with pleasure. His slit-pupil golden eyes were half-lidded as he drifted in the afterglow, and the seraph thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his existence.

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until his lover smiled at him sweetly, needle-sharp teeth hidden by the curve of his lips. "I was designed to be irresistible," he pointed out with a chuckle. His husky, melodic voice sent shivers down the seraph's spine. "You're the beautiful one. And don't tell me that all angels are beautiful - your radiance outshines any other celestial that I've ever seen."

The angel actually blushed, though he knew that flattery was first nature to an incubus. Still, something in the golden eyes told him that though the words might be glib, the sentiment behind them was true. He hugged his lover tightly, burying his face in the long sable hair. "They're going to catch us," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Michael is starting to suspect. They're watching me more closely now - I almost didn't get away to see you today."

The incubus sighed, and stroked his wings in return. "You didn't," he told him, and the seraph jerked his head up to stare at his lover. "You didn't get away," the demon repeated. "I wasn't going to tell you yet, but... they're already at my perimeter defences. I didn't notice them until it was too late - we can't escape."

The seraph shivered, wondering what would happen when Gabriel's Enforcers reached them. "How long do we have?" he murmured, feeling his heart clench at the thought that these would be his last moments with his demonic lover.

"An hour at best, but it won't take them less than half an hour to get here," the incubus told him with a hint of pride. "I traded Iuvart for these defences a couple of centuries ago, and they're strong," he added, naming one of the lesser devils that ruled over the demons of Hell. By now the angel knew better than to ask his lover WHAT he had traded - he probably didn't want to know the answer. "Not strong enough to hold out a determined Archangel, but strong enough to slow them down for a while."

They were silent for a moment, holding each other tightly and trying to stifle their fear. "They will take us to be Judged, first," the angel finally murmured, thinking aloud. "There's no question that we're guilty, though. And no question of the punishment - I'll be cast out, Fallen. And you..."

"I will be turned over to Lucifer, and given to Carreau most likely," the incubus said matter-of-factly, and the seraph shivered at the thought of his lover in the hands of the devil of cruelty. "Lucifer may decide to keep my spirit intact, but he's more likely to order me destroyed." He hesitated, then added, "Angel, you don't have to Fall."

"What do you mean?" the seraph replied, puzzled.

"They'll give you the chance to repent. If you repent, He forgives you, right? Then you wouldn't Fall. You should..."

"No!" the seraph cut him off with a palm slapped over his mouth. His lover's sorrowful eyes stared up at him over his hand, pleading with him to save himself. He gentled his tone, and continued, "I won't renounce you. I couldn't - it would be a lie, and He would know it. I love you, and I won't deny that love."

The incubus licked the palm of his hand, and he drew it away with a gasp. The little demon rolled him over with a surprisingly strong shove, winding up perched on top of him, straddling his hips. He showered kisses over the angel's body with the desperation of one who knows he is damned, and is stealing a last moment of glory. "Then if this is to be our last hour together, let's make it count!" he rasped, and the angel willingly gave himself over to the emotions that raged between them.

Omi awoke with a gasp, the sun streaming into his eyes from the window. His body was on fire, strung tight with desire from the dream that had just been interrupted. He panted for air, cursing his over-active teenage hormones.

Then he realized that if the sun was in his face it had to be almost noon. Panicked, he shoved himself up to a sitting position and fished for his alarm clock amidst the mess of electronics on his bed. Had he forgotten to set it?

Sure enough, the glowing digits read 'eleven-fifteen', but by then his mind had caught up with him. He had graduated from school last month, and he didn't have to work in the shop today until noon. He hadn't overslept after all.

He sighed and curled back up in the one clear corner of his bed. Absently he nudged a keyboard out of the way with his foot, reflecting for perhaps the millionth time that he really needed to stop using his bed as a storage space.

Now that his panic had subsided, his body was making its needs very clear again. Groaning, he buried his face in the pillow and willed the arousal away. It didn't work, as usual. Damn it, he knew he was almost eighteen, but surely this was a little excessive even for a teenager!

Every morning for the last two weeks he'd awoken like this, hard and ready and desperate for the feel of someone, anyone, against him. That was the part that really disturbed him; for those first few agonizing moments before he took care of it, he knew with absolute certainty that if Brad Crawford were to walk through the door, he would jump him without a second thought. It was all he could do to keep himself from going in search of one of the other Weiss members!

Biting his lip to restrain the impulse, he snaked one hand down beneath the covers and gripped his erection. He'd given up on wearing pyjamas entirely - too frequently they were disgustingly sticky when he awoke, and he'd discovered that he liked the feeling of freedom that sleeping nude brought.

Unbidden, an image of wide blue eyes, soft dark hair and delicate elfin features came to him as he stroked himself. He hissed quietly, hating himself for thinking of his enemy, for not even being in control of his own fantasies. Since that night two weeks ago when they had kissed he had been unable to get the thought of Nagi out of his mind, especially at moments like this.

Sable hair, midnight eyes, ivory skin and impossibly lovely features; Omi had to admit that the telekinetic was beautiful, but he'd known plenty of beautiful men before, not the least of who were his teammates! None of them had ever driven him with this need that was perilously close to an obsession, so why Nagi?

His body tensed as the waves of pleasure coalesced into a single, throbbing point, then exploded outwards. He muffled a sharp cry with his free hand as his stomach and fist were coated with sticky white gobs, not wanting any of the others to hear him if they were around. He lay panting as the aching need within him slowly faded, abated but not sated by his self-pleasuring.

Finally he stretched, enjoying the feel of the cool linens against his skin and the pull of his muscles. Sighing, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and reached for his bathrobe.

Half an hour later, showered, dressed and ready for the day, he wandered into the kitchen. Ken was there, munching on a sandwich with a glass of milk and a sports journal on the table in front of him. "Ohayou, Ken-kun!" Omi chirped sweetly, rummaging through the cupboards for his own lunch.

"More like 'konnichi wa'," Ken told him, laughing. "It's almost noon. I swear, Omi, you've been getting as bad as Youji about sleeping in!"

"I have not," Omi replied mildly, settling in at the table with his cup ramen and a glass of apple juice. "I only sleep in on the days I DON'T have morning shift."

Ken chuckled and conceded the point. "Are you still having those weird dreams?"

Omi nodded. "Hai." In between erotic ones of you, Youji, Aya... and Nagi, he added mentally. "And I still can't remember what they're about." Silk sliding against his skin like a lover's touch...

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments. Omi felt content, happy to be just spending some time with his best friend in a normal, domestic situation. For a few moments he could pretend that he was a normal boy, with a normal life.

Ken sighed and gulped down the rest of his milk, holding the empty glass to his face to capture the last of the coolness. "It's so bloody hot," he commented, fanning himself with his free hand. "It's almost October, shouldn't it be cooling off by now?"

Omi nodded his agreement. "It feels like it's about twenty degrees hotter today than yesterday," he added. "I hope it rains soon - that should cool things off, at least for a while."

"There's Popsicles in the fridge," Ken told him, and Omi was instantly on his feet, rummaging through the freezer for the cool treat. "I bought them this morning when the weather forecast starting saying how hot it was gonna be this week."

Omi pulled his arm out of the freezer, brandishing the little package triumphantly. "Grape okay with you?" he asked his friend, and Ken nodded. Omi expertly broke the Popsicle in two, then opened the package and handed one piece to Ken. Sighing with pleasure, he slid his own half into his mouth.

"I don't know how you do that," Ken said ruefully around his Popsicle. "When I try to break them I end up with about a dozen pieces, not two."

"Practice," Omi told him cheerfully, settling back into his chair and sucking on the icy sweet. "You know how addicted I am to these things in the summer." He poked the smooth length into his cheek with his tongue and sucked at it for a moment, then pulled it deeper into his mouth. He loved the way it tasted slightly different on the different areas of his tongue, loved the sensation of it sliding between his lips with slippery coolness. Grabbing the wooden stick, he pulled it free of his mouth with a soft 'pop' and started licking at it blissfully.

Glancing up, he found Ken staring at him with his Popsicle half in his mouth, dripping down his shirt. "Ken-kun? Are you okay?" he asked his friend in concern.

Ken jumped a little, like he was waking from a daydream, and unaccountably blushed. "Uh... yeah," he said, his voice just a little breathy. "I just, uh, zoned out there for a second. Oh, damn," he swore, glancing down and seeing the stains on his soccer jersey. "Damn it, I just washed this!"

Omi chuckled as his the other teen dropped his Popsicle onto his empty plate and dashed for the sink, wetting a washcloth and scrubbing frantically at the stains. "It had to be grape, too," he commiserated as the purple marks only spread. "That's the worst for leaving stains."

"No kidding," Ken said wryly, giving up on getting the juice out of his shirt. "I just hope it's not permanent." He stripped the shirt off as Omi moved to put his dishes in the sink, still sucking absently on his Popsicle. Omi couldn't help but notice the way the muscles moved in Ken's strong torso - he hardly ever saw the ex-soccer player without his baggy clothes, and it always surprised him just how well built Ken really was. He enjoyed the rare sight and hoped he wasn't staring too obviously - none of the other Weiss knew that he was as interested in boys as he was in girls, and he didn't want to make his friend uncomfortable.

He was paying more attention to Ken's body than to what his own hands were doing, and lost his grasp on the ceramic plate. It crashed into the sink and shattered, and one large, sharp-edged piece grazed the edge of Omi's hand. "Ow, shit!" he yelped without thinking, yanking his hand back. The loosely held Popsicle fell from his mouth to splatter on the floor, and he swore again. "Damn it! Mou, I'm such a klutz!"

Ken was giving him a funny look. "You've been swearing an awful lot lately, Omi," he informed his friend, turning to grab the roll of paper towels from the counter. "It's not like you."

Omi glared at the line of blood that was welling up all the way down the side of his index finger, and stuck the wounded digit in his mouth without thinking. He lapped at the blood, feeling the sting as his saliva touched the cut. "Have I?" he asked absently around the finger he was sucking on. "I hadn't noticed. Youji-kun must be rubbing off on me. Damn it, this is going to need a bandage."

Ken glanced at him as he moved to dump the soggy mess of towels and Popsicle into the garbage, and blushed again. "You, uh... you shouldn't be doing that, Omi. You'll infect it. Here, let me see."

Omi obediently withdrew his finger from his mouth, holding it out for Ken's inspection. The blood instantly flowed to the surface again, mingling with the traces of his saliva. Ken took his hand and turned it this way and that, examining it carefully. "Doesn't look like there's any shards in there," he finally concluded. "It's not deep enough to need stitches, but it's too long for a band-aid. I'll wrap it for you."

"Thanks," Omi replied, putting pressure on it with his thumb to hold the edges together and stop the blood while Ken ran to the bathroom for the first aid kit. He sat back down in his chair, licking his lips and catching the last coppery drops of his blood. Idly, he wished he had another Popsicle - then looked over and saw Ken's abandoned one lying on his plate. Glancing at the hallway, Omi shrugged and reached over and grabbed it, hastily slurping the melted liquid off it. If Ken was just going to let it sit there and melt, there was no sense in letting it go to waste.

Ken returned with the bandages, and made a face at him. "Hey, that's mine!" he protested, kneeling down and taking possession of Omi's injured hand again.

Omi shrugged. "You weren't eating it," he told him lightly, and stuck his tongue out in a gesture of defiance. Ken laughed.

"Your tongue is purple," he informed Omi, and the younger boy giggled. Ken set to work wrapping Omi's finger, long practice making his movements quick and efficient. Omi watched him, dark head bowed over the small hand in his two bigger ones, muscles in his back rippling with his movements. He was still shirtless, and Omi drank in the sight with appreciation.

God, Ken-kun is so hot, he thought to himself, scraping his teeth gently along the end of the Popsicle and grateful for its cooling effect. And the best part is, he doesn't even know it. Mmm, I could watch him like this all day. Embarrassingly, he found his body was reacting to the sight and hoped Ken wouldn't notice it. Mou, I hate being a teenager! Most people have a one-track mind; I have a one-track body.

He shifted so that the bulge in his pants would hopefully be a little less obvious, and tried to think about cold things. The Popsicle was almost gone now, and he bit the last of it off the stick before slurping up the final juices.

Ken glanced up at him, eyes slightly glazed and face flushed. Omi blinked back down at him, praying the flush wasn't because the older boy had spotted his erection. "Uh, Omi..." the other teen started, then trailed off and ducked his head again.

"Nani?" Omi asked, wondering if Ken was okay.

"N-nandemo nai," Ken muttered, tying off the bandage around Omi's finger. "Nothing, it's nothing." He stood hastily, not looking the younger boy in the face as he turned to the sink and rummaged among the pieces of the plate. "You'd better get downstairs for your shift - I'm still on lunch break, so I'll clean this up."

Omi nodded, perturbed by his friend's behaviour, and slowly moved for the stairs. Mentally he cursed his wayward body, wishing he could figure out some way to keep his hormones under control. Though of all three of them, he was glad it had been Ken. Youji would never have stopped teasing him, and who knew what Aya would have done. Cut it off, maybe?

He shivered and felt his erection wilt at the very thought. Well, at least I found one image that helps! he thought to himself ironically.

Entering the store, he found Aya hard at work and Youji flirting with the girls, as usual. With his usual bright sunny smile, he greeted all the girls in the store. It was summer break, so they had to deal with the fangirls all day long instead of just after school, though it did mean they didn't all show up at once.

"Omi."

Aya's smooth voice drew him over to where the redhead was making an Ikebana arrangement. "Hai?" he asked, watching Aya's hands fly over the delicate stems. He loved watching Aya work; the graceful, economical motions that created the artistic arrangements that were the only way the swordsman permitted himself to express his emotions.

"We've got a bunch of deliveries ready, will you run them out?" Aya asked him, pausing to glare at a brave fangirl who was reaching out to touch him. The girl snatched her hand back with a little squeak and scurried back to rejoin the group of her friends around Youji. Omi suppressed a chuckle.

"Sure thing, Aya-kun," he replied, picking up the address sheet and the scooter keys. "Are they all out in the scooter already?"

Aya nodded, and he waved a cheerful goodbye to the store in general, ignoring the protests of the girls that he had only just got there. Trotting out to the back where they kept their own vehicles as well as the shop scooter, he snagged his helmet from the rack and strapped it on. After double-checking that the arrangements were in fact in the tiny refrigeration unit, he headed out for the first address.

Nearly an hour later he smiled cheerfully as the last recipient signed the form, and sighed with relief as she closed the door in his face. It was much too hot to be out of doors, he decided wearily. There was a little ice cream store on the way back to the shop; he decided to stop and get himself and the others some ice cream.

Not surprisingly, there was a huge crowd gathered around the store. He had to park his bike nearly a block away, and decided to leave his helmet on the seat. He would be standing in line for a while, and it would be much too hot to wear.

He trudged back down the sidewalk towards the store, humming happily under his breath. It was, he reflected again, nice to just be doing normal things, things that any other teenager might be doing - working, getting ice cream for his friends, just living his life in peace.

As if on cue he felt himself being yanked by an invisible force, dragged towards a nearby narrow alleyway. He tried to cry out for help and found his jaw clamped shut; tried to reach for his darts and found his limbs held immobile. He was still a few dozen feet from the crowd around the store and no one was looking his way; he vanished into the alley without anyone even knowing he'd been there.

He struggled futilely against the restraining force, knowing it was useless unless another one of those odd 'fits' took the telekinetic. He knew it was Nagi - there was no one else it could reasonably be.

Sure enough, after he'd been dragged a good fifty feet down the alley he found himself shoved up against the wall with a lean, hard body pressed up against his. Nagi glared at him from inches away, using his own body weight to keep Omi pinned in case his powers faltered.

Omi had to admit to being a little frightened. They all knew Schwartz was out for their blood, but thus far the psychics hadn't actually sought them out when they weren't on a mission. Nagi looked furious - Omi had never seen so much emotion on the normally collected boy's face. He gulped and tried to squirm away, succeeding only in rubbing his body against the younger assassin's. For the second time that day he was mortified to feel his body reacting in an all-too predictable way.

"What the hell did you DO to me?" Nagi hissed at him furiously, eyes a little wild. "What was that energy? Why did you kiss me? And WHY can't I stop thinking about you?"

The last was little more than a wail, and Omi stared at him. Finding that his jaw was working again, he replied in a hoarse voice, "I could ask you the same thing. You're the one who's got someone on his team capable of messing with minds."

Nagi ground his back teeth together audibly. "Schuldich swears up and down that he didn't do anything," he gritted out. "Though gods know he's laughing enough about it! And Crawford just keeps warning me to stay the hell away from you. I can't stand it any more - I need to know what the hell is happening to me!"

"I don't know," Omi replied quietly. "I really don't. It's happening to me, too."

Nagi's shoulders slumped as he gave a defeated little moan, and Omi felt the pressure holding him against the wall slacken. Instantly he was struggling again, and he managed to free one foot enough to kick out at the psychic's legs.

That proved to be a mistake - Nagi tripped and fell backwards, hands instinctively grabbing at Omi's shoulders to keep himself upright. He lost his concentration and the supporting force around Omi dropped away entirely, sending them both sprawling onto the ground.

Omi wound up in a rather compromising position, straddling the telekinetic's hips as Nagi clutched at his shoulders. Their groins brushed together, and somehow Omi wasn't surprised to find that Nagi was as aroused as he was. They stared at one another, panting hard and both trying to find the willpower to shove the other one away.

Both of them were wearing simple shorts and t-shirts, and everywhere their skin touched Omi could feel a deep tingling sensation. It wasn't unpleasant - far from it, in fact, but it was driving him to distraction. A wave of deja vu swept over him, as though they'd been in this position many times before.

"What's happening to us?" Nagi gasped out from beneath him, and Omi shook his head.

"I don't know," he repeated his earlier reply, feeling his entire body trembling from the strength of his need to gather this beautiful boy in his arms and kiss him senseless. Slowly, with an extreme effort of will, he managed to pry himself away from the telekinetic's clutching hands and roll away so they weren't touching any more.

They both lay there in the dirt of the alley, panting and staring at the sky, unwilling to look at each other for fear it would begin all over again. "I feel like this has happened before," Nagi finally murmured, echoing Omi's sentiments.

"I don't like you," he added as he sat up, as though there had ever been any doubt. "You're a goody-two-shoes and a pain in the ass. I can't stand the way you think you're better than me because you're killing for 'justice'."

"Well, I don't like you either," Omi informed him sourly, carefully avoiding looking into his eyes after one brief glance made them both breathlessly dizzy. "I hate the way you hurt people without even thinking twice about it. I hate you for the way you protect evil people while they hurt innocents, instead of using your ability to protect those innocents."

They were both standing shakily now, leaning against opposite walls of the alley for support. "Now that we've firmly established that we don't like each other," Nagi said wryly, "what the hell are we going to do about this? How am I supposed to fight you if I get a hard on every time I even think about you, never mind look at you?"

Omi growled a little and shook his head. "This is ridiculous. We're enemies. We hate each other. Why is this happening to us?"

They were both silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe we should just get it over with and get it out of our systems?" Nagi finally suggested hesitantly. Surprised, Omi snapped his gaze up to see Nagi's face without thinking, and they were caught again. "I mean," the younger boy continued, his voice gone suddenly breathy, "we don't have to like each other to sleep together. I don't think this is going to go away on its own."

Omi was tempted - oh, was he tempted! His body was frantically urging him to take the other boy up on his offer here and now, in fact. But something told him it wouldn't be that easy, while another part of his soul cried out that it shouldn't be this way. "No," he gasped out, struggling with himself. "No, not like that. I... I can't just jump into bed with you, whatever my body might want." I want to be in love with the person who is my first! his mind added in a wail.

As he spoke he was amazed to feel some of the straining tension ebbing from him, giving him a little breathing room. He could see from the look on Nagi's face that the other boy felt it, too. After a few moments it wasn't so painful to look at each other any more; after another few the clawing in his gut faded away to a simple ache. They were both breathing a little freer, still leaning against their walls for support as they stared at each other.

"Is... is it gone?" Omi finally ventured to ask. He was still shaking in reaction to the power of the feelings that had enveloped him, and Nagi didn't look very steady either. "Will it come back, do you think?"

"I don't know," it was Nagi's turn to say. Tentatively they both straightened up, awkward and uncertain with each other. Experimentally he reached out with one hand, and Nagi hesitantly met it.

Their hands met and fingers tangled, and both felt a tiny little surge of that strange energy. But it was nowhere near as strong as it had been, and it was gone almost as fast as it came. They continued to stare at each other over their twined fingers, still not sure what to do next.

"Do you want to get some ice cream?" Omi heard himself blurt out, and he wondered if he was losing his mind. Had he really just asked Naoe Nagi out for ice cream?

Nagi looked as surprised as he felt. "Ice cream?" he repeated in such a bewildered tone of voice that Omi had to giggle.

"Yeah, you know... cold stuff made from milk?" Omi prompted him.

Nagi scowled at him. "I know what ice cream is," he informed him crossly. "I meant, 'why'?"

Omi blushed and dropped his gaze, and was startled to find that they were still holding hands. Hastily he tugged his fingers free. "I don't know... it was stupid. I just thought... I mean... oh, just forget..."

"Okay."

Omi wasn't sure who was more surprised by the acceptance, him or Nagi. He peered up at the other boy through his lashes, and saw that he was blushing and staring at the ground. Rather than questioning it, he simply turned and started walking back down the alley.

There was a choked noise behind him, and he turned curiously to see Nagi with his hand over his mouth, eyes dancing. "What?"

"You've got crap all down your back," Nagi told him with a snort. Twisting to try to look at his back, Omi was dismayed to find that he was right. The ground in the alley was filthy, and he was covered in it where he'd lain on his back.

"Damn," he said, softly but with feeling as he started to brush ineffectually at the dirt. Nagi watched him struggle for a moment, then sighed and helped him get the places he couldn't reach.

Omi caught a glimpse of Nagi's own back, and started to laugh. "You're even worse than I am," he giggled. "I think I'm just going to get Ken-kun to turn the hose on me when I get back."

Nagi chuckled at the image, and before they knew it they were both laughing, leaning on each other for support. They staggered out of the alley and into the line for ice cream, ignoring the looks they were getting from the other patrons.

"We look like we either just had a major fight, or sex in a really dirty place," Nagi whispered to him conspiratorially, a hint of a smile still tugging at his lips.

"Well, we almost did!" Omi replied just as quietly. They both giggled again, and were still laughing when they finally got their ice cream.

They took it to the park across the street, and sat on the grass in the shade while they licked at the rapidly melting treats. Omi slurped contentedly at his, as always happiest with something frozen in his mouth. He watched Nagi surreptitiously, uncertain how to act around his not-quite-so-hated enemy. He caught Nagi looking back at him, and they both blushed and glanced away.

This is weird, he couldn't help thinking. First I hate him, then I kiss him, then I can't stop thinking about him, then I want him - oh, how I wanted him! - and now we're sitting here like friends - or lovers. I think this may be just about the strangest day of my life.

They finished their ice cream and sat in silence for another long moment, neither quite willing to end the odd scene. Abruptly Nagi jerked his head up and stared off into space.

"I have to go," he said, sounding just a little reluctant but mostly relieved that this strange encounter was coming to an end. "Brad wants me for something."

"How do you know?" Omi asked him curiously.

Nagi gave him a 'duh' look. "Schuldich told me." Omi blushed, feeling stupid. Nagi stood and automatically brushed at the seat of his shorts to get rid of the grass marks, then rolled his eyes as he realized it was pointless considering the muck already there. He paused, then shrugged awkwardly. "Thanks for the ice cream."

Omi watched him go, needing another few moments to gather his thoughts before returning to the Koneko. Whatever force it was that was playing merry hell with his life, he had a strong feeling it wasn't through with them yet.

|Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3| |Part 4| |Part 5| |Part 6| |Part 7| |Part 8| |Part 9| |Epilogue|

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