Petshop on the beach
Well, I've read a great deal of the really (really!) good fanfic posted here. Mine is not that good, but I figure any new PSOH fanfic is a good thing. (Count how many times I have used a positive adjective here!)
Title: Petshop Paradise (this is a dorky title, I am sorry)
Pairing: Leon/D (fancy that!)
Rating: R for various acts of smexy goodness; 18+; go away if you aren't old enough, please
Warnings: None - nobody dies; they just forget.
Based on Vol 8's 1st chapter.
(This is the 1st fic I wrote about them before I found out there was Shin. Pardon any idiocies and I make no claim to any PSOH character)
Type your cut contents here.
Petshop Paradise
Orcot’s eyes snapped open suddenly. Something… there was something!
It was nearly full dark; only a little light seeped in from the silvery crescent moon beyond the gauzy curtains. The night was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of tropical flowers. In the distance, the sea hushed gently against the island’s shore. And perched silently on the side of Orcot’s bed, hovering over him like a paradise-clad bird of prey, was the Count, resplendent in a flowered kimono, the scarlet floral design mauve in the wan light.
Orcot immediately stifled his exclamation of surprise, his eyes wide as he recognized this strangest of visitors. It was just too fucking strange. He sure as shit didn’t know why D was here, but he was also afraid to make the slightest movement, the tiniest sound. He didn’t want to startle the Count, perhaps send him fleeing. It was amazing enough that D was even here, in his room. That alone was enough to shock him into stillness. But there was also, deep within his gut, his innermost soul, the tiniest flicker of fear, sparked by the animal glitter the faint moonlight revealed in the Count’s odd eyes. Leon knew full well that the Count’s gentle demeanor hid a wild streak a mile wide. He’d spent too many fruitless hours trying to figure out which way the Count would jump to guess what he’d do now, even if deep down he did trust him.
Why was D here? What did he mean by coming here? Sure, the Count’d been a little off ever since he’d hit his head after that unexpected dive. Going around smiling and acting like he didn’t know anything; yeah, that was totally unlike him. Really cute, but not the Count he knew. Leon still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t all an act. But why would D come into Orcot’s room after midnight? He’d never knowingly do that, would he? Even with amnesia it was kind of unthinkable. Amnesia didn’t wipe your basic personality - it just obscured it. The Count wasn’t really touchy-feely with people. Leon knew for a fact he didn’t hold them in high regard. Besides, last time Leon had seen him, he‘d been fast asleep with Chris in the adjoining room.
Not that Orcot minded his presence. Not at all, really. Just the opposite. The Count fascinated Leon, drawing Leon in like a moth to a particularly lustrous flame even when he was verbally slamming Orcot’s sloppy ways and lack of grace. You, they bickered a lot. But it was cool. The Count was kind to him, Leon often thought, even kind of caring in a very subtle way. He’d taken Chris in with barely a murmur; hell, he’d even saved Leon’s life a couple of times, although Leon wasn’t too clear on the details. D fed him; listened to him bitch about work; even helped him out with a case or two. Leon had to admit he was a little slow on the uptake when it came to personal relationships, but even so all the real evidence indicated that the Count actually liked him in his own weird way. That made Leon happy, although he would never admit that to D. Guys didn’t talk about stuff like that.
The thing was, Orcot found himself more and more often at the Pet Shop these days and not just because of Chris. It wasn’t even that he suspected the Count of numerous crimes. It was just that something in him desired the Count’s presence, even if it was just to spar and argue. Orcot needed those moments of tea-sipping and cake-munching in the quiet bustle of the Shop. The animals (people?) soothed him; the Count’s voice gave him pleasure. He liked to watch Chris and Tetsu wrestle; enjoyed sharing cake with Pon-chan, and looked forward to the chance to see what fantastic Asian get-up the Count would don each day. Hell, he even liked it when the Count pried his mind open with ideas and visions that just didn’t square with his LAPD cop’s reality. So, yeah, he was there a lot more often than he had been. It felt like home there, much more so than his ratty apartment. And maybe the Count was integral to that good feeling. As much as Orcot had bitched, this vacation had felt like a godsend to him, giving him a perfect excuse to spend a little more time with the ever-fascinating D.
He just never expected this.
The Count bent down, ever so slowly, like he was moving through molasses. Orcot held his breath, still worried that his slightest movement would stop the Count. If the Count was dreaming, Leon definitely didn’t want him to wake up and leave, at least not right yet. Expectation held him breathless and still.
He stared fixedly into the Count’s beautiful differently-colored eyes as they came closer, unable and unwilling to look away. D’s gaze was captivating…and full of some…some…feeling…that Orcot couldn’t put a name to. It made his skin prickle and his heart rate increase, even so.
What is D doing? Is he going to bite me? He’s like a beautiful…animal. As the pale face came closer Orcot’s heart throbbed in his chest - he was afraid the Count would hear it, it was so loud. Every fraction of a second that passed, he was convinced the Count must wake up, must draw back, and this odd breathless moment of longing would be all over, just a fancy brought on by too many mai tais. But the Count came closer yet, till there was only a breath between them, ever so slowly but without any hesitation, his shadowed face intent. Orcot decided firmly that he no longer cared if he was bitten, as long as D completed that slow arcing descent that would inevitably bring their lips together. Hell, if it was going to be like this, he wouldn’t mind being bitten.
But it wasn’t pain Leon felt. D’s lips were firm and cool, but soft. They brushed Orcot’s slightly open mouth with a sweet moistness and then drew a millimeter away. Eyes finally closing, D sighed silently and Orcot inhaled that faint breath. He remained utterly still, a graven image, desperately hoping that D would do it again. He had woken to find himself in the midst of the fantasy he’d never even admitted to himself he’d had. The slightest movement would destroy it - wake the dreaming Count and bring him to his senses.
The spell remained unbroken. Leon’s fervent wish was granted, as D tasted his lips once more, the tip of his tongue slipping shyly into Orcot’s mouth. Leon could restrain himself no longer - he had to touch. Very gently he lifted his hand, sliding his palm softly across D’s high cheekbone, and then wrapping it hand lightly around D’s slender white neck, hidden under night-dark hair. Hesitantly, with the lightest of caresses, he urged D closer still and their questing mouths finally fully entwined. Reflexively, Orcot’s arms came desperately around D, pulling the Count sprawling against the aching length of Leon’s aroused body.
So warm! D’s silk-clad body burned in Leon’s arms, heating his skin. The smooth chest that met his through the gaping silk of the kimono set Leon on fire. The mouth that entangled with his was just as fervent, and he felt the tips of D’s nails dig into his bare shoulders as he wordlessly answered Leon’s embrace. They grappled silently, lovingly, needing no words at that first moment of coming together.
Orcot had never felt this way before. He had had lots of women, even women whom he considered lovers, but this intense sweetness was utterly foreign to him. His body hungered intensely for the slender shape of the man pressed against him. The more they touched, the more Leon realized just how much he wanted D, how great his subconscious desire had grown. Now, having finally acknowledged it, at least to himself, he could only think of getting closer. He wanted to be inside D. He wanted to make him his. Leon’s body craved carnal closeness, as though it had finally discovered its destined mate after some unbearably long time alone. He could not deny it any longer.
But the remnants of the rational Orcot wanted D to match his desire. Leon found it unthinkable to force or seduce D. It would be godawful if D were just befuddled by amnesia, unaware of what he was doing here. What if it were all a mistake? Leon didn’t think he could bear that. But D had started it, after all, Leon reassured himself. He came to me! He must have known when he came to me. He must remember; he must know who he was with! And it felt like the truth - the Count Leon knew would never do such a thing without meaning to.
Orcot’s fingers slid inexorably down, unconnected to his scattered thoughts, and pulled the kimono down to expose D’s white back. It puddled limply around D’s waist. Leon’s one hand slid between them and grasped D’s cock, squeezing gently while the other hand caressed the length of that smooth back. D made little noise of pleasure in response and, encouraged, Orcot began to stoke D into full hardness. His mouth pressed against D’s throat, laving the white column with a hot tongue, then moving to caress D’s ear, his tongue circling the rim and delving in. D gasped at that, trembling against Leon, growing rapidly harder. The tip of D’s cock grew damp and Orcot smiled with satisfaction. Deftly, he peeled the kimono completely off, and wanting to caress D’s chest, grasped D under the arms and hauled him upwards to sit straddling Leon’s hips. Rosy nipples became hard under Leon’s ministrations and D’s cock dribbled pearl-like drops onto Leon’s belly. His back arched, he hung limply in Orcot’s grasp as Leon suckled him and licked his satiny skin.
“D?” Orcot asked wonderingly, finally looking up into the pleasure-softened face above him. He wanted D to open his eyes now, wanted it badly. There had to be some confirmation in that face that he was allowed to do this. It was so hard to comprehend. It had to be a dream. It simply couldn’t be real. D would never do this - he’d never let me touch him, not like this…but…it felt real. The Count open his amber and purple eyes at Leon’s sudden stillness. Then he shrugged himself upright above Leon, his back straightening, eyes sharp. His fingertips reached out to trail up Leon’s chest to his bemused face, Leon’s rampant erection cradled with his own between his white thighs. He stared straight into Orcot’s bewildered eyes, his own odd eyes aglow with that feline glitter. Then D smiled -- slowly, deliberately, knowingly -- and Orcot’s pulse surged off the charts.
He knew.
Yes! He wants it! He wants me…! Leon wasn’t alone in this sea of desire. His fingers were maddened by the sudden rush of joy. He grasped D’s buttocks, squeezing rhythmically. D let out a sexy little growl, thrusting his pelvis hard down to meet Orcot’s rising hips.
The Count was oddly silent, though. He hadn’t said a word, not even Leon’s name, only gazed at Leon with that odd glitter in his dark eyes, smiling that inviting smile. Love? Lust? Sadness? Orcot couldn’t quite decide what was reflected in the Count’s eyes, but it was too late now. The fact that D had smiled like that was more than enough. He’d worry about the pesky details later.
Orcot reached gently down, searching for the little opening that seemed to beckon him. He’d never made love to man before but he wanted to be inside. He’d could figure out how, no problem. Pressing softly, he slid his middle finger slowly in. The Count’s body jerked upright in response, his eyes suddenly wide. Orcot wrapped his other arm around D and rolled sideways, taking D with him, till D was splayed beneath him on the mussed bed. Leon crouched over him, enjoying the view in the dim light. D’s silky hair cast a dark halo on the pillow, and there was still that faint feline smirk on his elegant face. His gaze was full of passion, though, and his lips were swollen and damp from Leon’s kisses. Reassured, Leon flexed his finger and D squirmed beneath him, his expression changing to one of pained ecstasy. Leon slipped another one in and the Count’s elegant hips surged forward, thrusting against Orcot’s hand. This was simply more than Leon could stand. With a groan, Orcot went down on D, licking, sucking and stroking until D was trembling uncontrollably beneath him, his breath coming in short gasps.
“Ahhh! Ahhh!”
With a sudden throaty cry, the Count came, creamy liquid gushing from the tip of his swollen cock. He lay panting and flushed and Leon reveled in the sight, immensely happy that he’d made D cum. The Count’s pale body, gilded with faint moonlight, entranced Leon. He wasn’t particularly girly - lithe muscle lay under that white skin - but his hips were long and trim. He was nearly hairless except for the little patch of silky black curls at the meeting of those pale thighs. D’s face was goddamned gorgeous when he came - prettier than any woman Leon had ever seen. And…he was still half-hard.
When Orcot slipped another finger inside, stretching his hole, the Count moaned sensuously, apparently ready for more. His slender hands with their long-tipped nails ran frantically through Orcot’s blonde hair and across his broad shoulders, stroking in time to Orcot’s movements. Leon returned the pleasure tenfold, caressing him back to a full hard-on, plunging slick fingers gently in and out of his twitching hole till D was quivering helplessly again, just on the verge of release. Judging D was ready at last, Orcot slid up D’s sweat-and-cum dampened body and gently guided his own swollen cock into position. Slicking himself quickly with D’s cum for lube, he entered ever so slowly until D tensed, his hands clutching Leon’s straining shoulders. Leon stopped immediately. He didn’t want to hurt D but he didn’t think he would stay sane if he couldn’t get inside him. There had to be something he could do. Trembling with pent-up passion, Leon smoothed one hand down D’s shivering torso, grasping his cock with the other and gently stroking D into quiescence. He covered D’s mouth with own, teasing, nipping, swirling his tongue until D responded with his own. Finally, when he thought D was ready again, Leon shoved himself all the way in with a sudden little lunge and D cried out at the sudden invasion, his face scrunching up in pain. Leon rubbed and petted and kissed him hard yet again, stifling D’s barely audible whimpers, trying desperately to ease the pain and bring D pleasure.
Gradually, by degrees, D relaxed. The tension left his face. The faint mysterious smile returned and his hips twitched in faint response to Orcot’s pulsing length inside him. Slowly, deliberately, D brought his knees up and apart, spreading himself wider, offering himself up for plundering. His clenched nails left marks on Leon’s shoulders but Leon didn’t feel the pain. Still, Leon waited, kissing D’s nipples and the hollow of his collarbone, stroking his thighs and belly, the white skin damp satin under his touch. Driven past the pain, D drew Leon’s face down to his own, locking lips in a fierce kiss that capsized the remnants of Leon’s sanity completely. Without thought Leon began to move again in an ancient rhythm that D now matched, undulating his hips to meet Leon’s thrusts. They panted and gasped with the same breath, exchanging sloppy kisses and caressing each other desperately, grinding closer and closer till Leon could last no longer and he came, his glorious release triggered D’s second coming.
**********
The morning sun was blinding when Leon opened his eyes. He winced and quickly covered his face with his hands, shutting out the glare. He felt odd - stiff and tingly and absurdly good. Must have been one hell of a night….although he couldn’t quite remember what happened.
He rolled over, pulling the white cotton sheet up and over his head to shut out the glare and discovered that the sheet beneath him was uncomfortably damp. There was something - something! He opened his eyes under the tent of sheets to find his mattress bestrewed with scarlet petals, wilting and crushed by his body. Scarlet hibiscus? He was pretty sure that was what the Count had called them. Leon remembered him pointing them out to Chris when they had first arrived. But why were there flower petals all over his bed? They looked like little smears of blood, he thought vaguely, and then mentally whacked himself for having such a grisly thought. He was on vacation, for chrissake! No blood here, not one drop.
Come to think of it, his bed smelled funny. Kind of salty, like blood…or the ocean just a little ways from his window. And something else, some faint rare fragrance that he knew, but couldn’t place just now. What was it? He remembered it -- but from where? He shrugged in confusion and then winced, his shoulders strangely tight and painful. He craned his head to look and nearly lost it altogether when he saw the marks - five oozing red scars, like the claw marks of a large feline, clearly etched on each tanned shoulder, just barely scabbed over.
What the hell had he been doing? He looked like he’d been wrestling with some wild animal, damn it! And then he noticed the other marks, faint and fading but still visible. They looked remarkably like hickies. They were scattered all over him, even on his thighs. He was sticky, too, his bare chest smeared with some substance that looked remarkably like drying cum. Deeply disturbed, he clutched his foggy head, making his bed hair spike out even more. What the fuck had he been doing... and who the hell with? Why couldn’t he remember? It was unlike him, damn it, even if he’d been drinking. Leon flopped back in his damp bed, the sheet still bunched over his head, and deliberately got his mind back in gear, casting about his blank head for some scrap of memory.
Whoever it was had been slender, he thought, even kind of boney. That hadn’t mattered - she’d been beautiful, he knew that. Very beautiful, so much so that he’d salivated just from looking. Dark hair, he thought, but he couldn’t seem to recall the color of her eyes. Only that they had ensorcelled him till he felt he could drown in them quite happily. Her skin had been smooth and firm and she had been so very tight when he took her, like a goddamned virgin. He ached again at the thought, his morning woody twitching between his still slightly damp thighs. Leon’s mind’s eye caught glimpses of a scarlet-flowered kimono but nothing more. He couldn’t catch the shape of her face - her name - nothing! Leon frowned, crinkling up his face in perplexity. Why the hell not?
It had been quite dark last night, but still he should remember more. He couldn’t have had that much to drink because he wouldn’t have been able to satisfy her and he was pretty goddamned convinced she’d enjoyed it. He remembered hearing moans and gasps that had only incited him to make her cry out with greater pleasure. The voice had been husky, hoarse with passion. And there too, lurking in the corner of his mind, was the vague memory of an indescribable feeling, the conviction that he’d finally met the one he loved, the one he had been waiting for all his life. He had been so mind-blowingly happy that it seemed like a dream, even at the time. But where was she now? Who the hell had she been, to make him feel that way? When had he ever met such a person, much less fallen in love? He had no clue, his brain wiped of all useful information. It was a fucking mystery, just like the damned flower petals decorating his bed.
Just like the Count. The thought came abruptly into his mind and he shook his head to dislodge it. He didn’t want to think about the Count right now, although he didn’t really know why. It was just uncomfortable. It made him oddly sad.
Whatever. He shrugged again, wincing. He should get up, get moving. Maybe the girl was still here at the hotel and maybe he could find her. He’d definitely look for her..but he should go check on Chris and the Count, too. D had amnesia. He might be confused or something. And Leon was increasingly aware that he was starving and very thirsty. The sun was pretty high - Chris and D might be on the beach already.
Orcot hauled himself out of his bed and shrugged on jeans, absentmindedly wiping flower petals from his chest. He remembered - no! Nothing was there but the frustration of forgetfulness. He found a clean T shirt in his duffel and pulled it on. He really needed a drink. And he needed to find the Count and Chris. He found himself wishing Tetsu had come along, just to keep an eye on those two.
He peeked into their bedroom on his way down the hall, but it was empty. They might be in the restaurant, he thought to himself. He needed to know where they were, quite urgently, more than anything else right now. But they weren’t in the hotel’s restaurant either. He asked the server and was directed to the beach. He almost ran there, shrugging off his thirst and hunger, although he wasn’t sure why. Chris was with the Count - they were safe enough. The Count knew all that Chinese kung fu stuff, even if he didn’t remember he knew. And Leon sure as hell knew that Count could take care of himself and one little boy. Leon had no reason to worry but he just couldn’t shake it. He needed to see them, sooner rather than later.
He caught sight of them down at the water’s edge. The Count was under a huge parasol stuck in the sand, reclining on a beach blanket. Chris was playing in a little pool the tide had left behind. They seemed to be just fine and Leon’s heart rate started to return to normal. He sauntered over, trying to look casual about it, and stood by the edge of the Count’s blanket. The Count was dozing, it seemed. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell gently. He was wearing yet another of his ‘swimsuits,’ one that covered him from throat to ankles, but he didn’t look hot or uncomfortable. He looked beautiful, Orcot thought and then caught himself. Why would I think that?
He sat down on the edge of the blanket, quietly so as not to wake the sleeping beauty. Chris hadn’t noticed him yet and he took advantage of the quiet to examine the Count’s peaceful face carefully. Leon wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for - evidence, maybe. But of what? Last night? came the errant thought. Hell no! He was just hoping that when D opened his eyes the amnesia would be gone. He hadn’t liked it that D hadn’t known him yesterday. It made his chest tight.
D really was beautiful, though, now that Leon took a good look. His brows were perfectly shaped and his sooty eyelashes were thick and long, like a girl’s. His striking purple-and-gold eyes weren’t visible now, but Leon recalled how very exotic they were. His skin, what Leon could see of it, was smooth and very pale - no wonder he kept it from the sun if he was that pale all over. A flash of white skin faintly reflected in the moonlight ran before Leon’s eyes and was gone, just as quickly as it came. He swallowed hard. There, just on the outer edge of his mind floated the face of the one from last night but once again, he simply couldn’t bring it into focus. He knew that face, though!
Leon leaned over the Count, eyes clenched hard, straining to remember. In the distance was the faint sound of beach revelers and seabirds. His nostrils caught that familiar scent, the odor of some incense or perfume that he knew so well but couldn’t place. It nagged at him, distracted him when he tried to coax his recalcitrant memory to cooperate. When Orcot opened his eyes minutes later, defeated and headachy, D was gazing up at him, silent and questioning. Leon started in shock. There! Right there -- at the very edge of that high Mandarin collar - there was a mark, a little half-moon bruise, the possible imprint of some passionate kiss. Startled and shocked, Leon met D’s blankly inquiring stare. There was a long silent moment while they held each other’s gaze, the atmosphere uncertain and pregnant with unanswered questions.
And then Chris was there, running up and shouting and scattering them both with droplets of water from the bucket he was swinging. The moment was gone. The Count turned away to smile at Chris and Leon drew a deep and somewhat panicked breath. It couldn’t be that, he thought, wildly. It couldn’t be!
All day long Orcot repeated that mantra to himself. The Count said absolutely nothing at all that in any way related to what he might have done the previous night. What with the amnesia and his out-of-character air of sweetness-and-light, there was not a clue as to what he might be thinking about his friend ‘the detective.’ Certainly there was no hint of latent desire, no carnal knowledge that could not be concealed within his eyes, hard as Orcot looked. There was nothing there, or at least, Orcot amended that, there was no one he knew inhabiting the Count’s body.
The blank smiling look drove Leon mad and when he went to bed that night he couldn’t sleep. He had peered again into the Count’s room before retiring, but there was nothing suspicious there. Chris and D were sleeping, nothing more. Leon paced his room for a while trying to tire himself out but when he finally lay down, he could only stare blankly at the wall.
He wasn’t sure what woke him this time. He hoped, half expected even, to find his mystery lover hovering above him in the dark, ready for another round, but it wasn’t that. It was just a faint sound, like fabric rustling. Orcot was silently up and dressed within seconds like the cop he was. Slipping silently into the hall, he peered into the Count’s room again, going with a hunch he didn’t like. He found what he had been hoping not to see - D had disappeared.
Leon almost caught up with D on the way down to the beach. Somehow, he’d known that Count would head for the ocean. It took everything he had not to call out to D, to detain him, but some terrible force kept Leon silent. This had to be an assignation with someone and the whole concept of D meeting anyone pissed Orcot off to no end. What the hell business did D have with an island girl anyway? He should be back in bed with Chris, dreaming of his beloved animals, not chasing some wench down the beach! Hell, that was Orcot’s job! But when Leon got to the edge of the trees he could plainly see the two of them standing in the waves, arms entwined, obviously just surfacing from a passionate kiss. The girl’s fucking good-looking too, damn it! Leon thought just before it hit him.
It felt like the mother of all sucker punches and it hurt so much that he almost dropped to his knees. All that passion he dimly remembered from the previous night returned, twisted now into a maelstrom of jealousy of the like he’d never felt before. Leon wanted to cry out for D to stop touching her. He wanted to physically pull them apart and scrub that kiss from D’s mouth. But he couldn’t - he had no right, no reason to stop them. He had no right, but--he wanted it!
Leon swallowed back the guttural sound of pain that fought to escape, fighting off the wave of sadness that swamped him. This was so unreal -- he must be dreaming. He must be crazy - or maybe the Count had slipped some strange drug into his rum-and-coke. He had no right to get in D’s way, yeah, that was true. And no real reason to believe that he and D had ever touched, much less intimately and with love. Flower petals and odd marks didn’t cut it when it came to the Count. It simply wasn’t something he’d ever do, at least not with Orcot. It must have been only a dream, Leon told himself again, just some rabid fantasy brought on by sexual frustration and tropical breezes. But it...felt real, said a corner of his mind. His aching heart agreed, but he shushed it firmly. There was no real evidence - he had no right to mourn what had never happened.
The Count had turned and noticed Leon as he stood hesitating at the edge of the palms, and now so did the woman. Leon went into cop mode automatically, stiffening his back and setting his shoulders against his own aching heart. Who the hell was she? What did she want with the Count? Even the minor shock of the mermaid’s tail did not obscure the little part of him who was greatly relieved to see the Count back to normal, acerbic and aloof as usual.
Between the noise of the waves and the pounding pain in his head, Leon only half heard what the Count was saying. Something confusing about switching bodies - that was all his numbed brain could retain. He could barely comprehend it - but this was the Count’s world, not his. And then he was given a choice - the past or the future, death or amnesia. Yesterday’s Leon would have chosen death if it answered his questions, fearless and unfettered. This Leon chose knowingly to forget. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost must have had his head up his ass. There was absolutely no sign in the Count’s eyes of the lover of the previous night, no gentleness or passion hidden in those purple and gold depths. He was just his usual calm unruffled self. And he had kissed her, the jealous demon on Leon’s shoulder reminded him. Leon couldn’t bear the overwhelming sensation of loss. If there was nothing here to fight for but his own ragged memories, then Leon could live without it. And if he lived, he could go back - back to the Pet Shop and the feeling of peace, back to his home, never remembering what he had lost, or more likely never had in the first place.
*****************
It was over. Leon gazed moodily at the island behind them in the waves, awed by the massive plumes of smoke and hot ash that billowed above its ravaged shores. They had so narrowly escaped a fiery death and it was all due to the Count…and the Mermaid. Leon felt a little funny still, off-balance and muzzy-headed. Too little sleep and too much weirdness, he guessed. And there was something else that bothered him. He couldn’t be sure, but he had this freaky feeling that D had kissed him. Or maybe it had been him kissing D. Whichever. Totally unlikely, he was sure, but it nagged at him. He could just imagine D’s look of amusement if he did say something about it, but hey, at least then he’d know it was nothing.
The odd uneasiness - memory? - had started when Shino had told them his Mermaid’s tale, there on that little island, and then grown stronger when the Count had appeared and revealed the rest of it. Something had clicked in Leon’s tired brain as he watched Shino transform into the youth the Mermaid loved. He’d been walking around all unsettled for a couple days, bits and pieces of memory jostling around in his head, thoughts surfacing that didn’t make sense in the world as he knew it. Shattered memory had begun to coalesce into something recognizable. And he’d felt physically shaken, his heart pounding for no reason when D showed up, his stomach clenching when D and the mermaid had touched. The thought of the possible kiss had crept into his mind then and flatly refused to be thrown out.
It was much later, well after they had left Shino and his Mermaid behind that Leon finally got the opportunity to ask the question the Count blithely promised to answer. He and the Count were standing at the rail watching the ocean, nominally alone as Chris was occupied with Faye.
“Hey, this is kinda a strange thing to ask, but did we…um…kiss?” Leon ducked a look at the Count, who was leaning elegantly against the rail.
The Count turned abruptly and stared at Orcot wordlessly, utter shock on his face.
Hah, hah. Leon knew what that meant. He was so totally off as to be on a different planet. D would probably ream him a new one for even saying it.
“Sorry, sorry! Don’t get your panties in a twist. I don’t know what I was thinking - of course you wouldn’t kiss me.” Leon turned away, laughing it off, or trying to, an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks. So much for that, then. He knew it hadn’t been true, but…
“No. No, I wouldn’t say that, Detective. There is no ‘of course’ about it.”
Leon’s head snapped back around.
“It is more that I am simply amazed at your persistence. You’ve had your memory erased twice already and you still hang onto that like a terrier. I am flattered.” The Count smiled, but it was a fond smile that belayed his mocking tone. Leon stared blankly at him, unable to say a word, jaw several inches lower than usual.
“But you are perfectly correct in your memory, Leon. We did indeed kiss…and rather more than that.” D smiled up at Leon, clearly enjoying Leon’s stupefied face.
“What!? What did you just say?” Leon croaked hoarsely. The Count watched him stutter, unfazed. “Wait! Was that you - or her, th-the mermaid?” Oh god, he didn’t want it to be her.
“I kissed you, Leon. No one else. The mermaid and I weren’t connected that night. She had returned to the sea.”
“Wh-why? Why’d you do it, D? Why with me?”
Looking down at the deck, the Count sidled a little closer. His voice had lost much of its assurance when he answered. Leon leaned down, straining to catch the murmured words.
“I was…curious, I am sorry to say. Sometimes, when I look at you, I have these feelings that I don’t understand. As if we are…connected…deeply, like a mating pair, ridiculous as that sounds. We are both male, after all.” D swallowed and allowed, “Although I suppose that does not matter.” He was blushing faintly. It certainly had not, in his very brief experience.
“I am at a loss to understand these emotions - they are very human, I think - but it is similar, I think, to what you might call ‘love.’” D glanced up at Leon, gauging his reaction. It was nerve-wracking, confessing like this, even though he knew Leon would not remember.
“Love?” Leon murmured. He inched a little closer to the Count and put an arm around his waist. The Count didn’t try to move away.
“I wanted to taste… that...with you,” D continued, looking down once again. “I…must admit you are very… important…to me.” His words came slowly, reluctantly. “I wanted to know what mating-making love felt like, Leon. I knew that it wouldn’t harm you or cause you pain. The Mermaid’s power would cause you to forget. Well, I was quite sure you would not remember. I certainly did not intend to confuse or hurt you. I hope,” the Count caught his breath, “I hope you’ll forgive me for that.” He looked up and was caught in Leon’s earnest gaze.
“Forget? I don’t want to forget, D! Far from it! I just wished I remembered more. It was damned good, D - better than anything, well, anyone I’ve ever known. I didn’t know it could be like that.” Leon paused, recalling little snippets of an emotion so strong it walloped him.
“There’s nothing to forgive you for, either. I knew damned well what I was doing when we did it. I wanted it. So, hey, you can taste any time you like!” Orcot reached out to grasp the Count’s shoulders, jiggling him a little with the intensity of his feelings. “I want you to, damn it, is what I’m trying to say!”
D shook his head negatively, not meeting Leon’s eyes. He kept on shaking it even when Leon pulled him closer, cradling D against his pounding heart.
“Leon, you must understand - I cannot! I simply cannot…I am not…ready for this. This is not how I am, what I know to be me. These emotions are frightening, Leon, and I am seldom frightened. They are unruly, totally uncontrollable. I hate to think what would happen if it continued-or if I encouraged it.” The Count looked up at last. “Without a doubt, you will forget that night. You’ll forget this moment as well, Leon. The Mermaid made sure of it. I can’t stop that, Leon, even if I was positive that I wanted to. Those memories, kept against her will, would hurt you in the long run and I…I can’t promise to make it better. And then where would we be, you and I?” D appealed, blinking up at Leon. Unnoticed, the sea had gotten little rougher in the last few moments. A fine mist kicked up and sent tentative fingers across the deck. D and Leon didn’t feel the chill mist, intent only on each other.
Leon stared down at D in the dimming light, formulating his response, a much clearer understanding of the complicated individual he loved welling up in his heart. D was afraid, deeply afraid, of what he was feeling. A large part of that fear was for Leon’s benefit, as well. And there seemed to be nothing Leon could do about it. No one was more stubborn and pig-headed than the Count. He could not be forced or cajoled. Leon very much doubted he could convince D to give their relationship a chance, either, when it seemed certain that he himself would be forgetting it any moment now. Very well, if he had to go along with this, he would. For now, at least, and only because of D. But he wanted something first.
“Fine, I’ll shut up. I won’t say it. I won’t push you, D, but you have to promise me something. Promise me that if -- when you’re ready, you’ll help me remember. Promise to wake me up, D. Don’t leave me hanging. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll wait, but I am not going to do this willingly if you don’t promise.” Leon’s stern plea echoed in his worried face and honest eyes.
D looked up at him, ensnared once again by the light shining there, the same warmth that had captured him half-unwilling the other night. He could never resist Leon when he looked like that. Really, he was weak against this blonde baboon to a much greater degree than he ever dared admit. Even before he realized it, he had been falling.
Love? Was that what this was, this sweet pain, this longing? It terrified the Count, who had always only watched. It was nothing like his love for his animals, or even for Chris. Those feelings had never kept him awake at night, craving a man’s touch. They hadn’t humiliated him, as his new-found jealousy of all Orcot’s female acquaintance did. He’d had no previous experience with longing or lust. But he felt them now, along with this insidious hunger that apparently only Leon could satisfy. The Count didn’t like it; didn’t want it, but it was a part of him now, growing greater every day. He’d been so sure that night that his scheme would be successful - if he just satisfied the physical hunger he‘d be done with it, able to forget these troublesome ‘feelings.’ Amnesia during a tropical island vacation had been the perfect excuse, if he’d actually needed one. But making love had only pacified the beast, not silenced it. It loomed awkwardly large in D’s uneasy soul, jostling his convictions, a dinosaur at a gas station.
Perhaps, if some day he got to the point where he was a little more comfortable…if Leon was still around, that notorious womanizer…maybe then he could accept this ‘love,’ even admit it to Leon. But, not yet. Not yet. Not now when he still remembered so clearly the sensual reality of making love with Leon. He couldn’t afford to leave himself open to that. It was entirely too dangerous, too consuming of self. The most he could do was give Leon a promise that might very well prove empty.
The Count nodded finally, looking down at the deck. His pale skin was faintly pink and Leon’s fingers traced a trickle of wetness on his cheek that might have been the rising sea spray. He wrapped his arms fully around D, shielding him as best as he could from the rising wind and water.
“I promise, then. If you are sure that’s what you want.” D nodded again, silky hair rustling against Orcot’s T-shirt where he rested his head. He didn’t seem to notice the dampness on his cheeks.
“Yes.” Leon breathed out, vastly relieved. “Alright, then. Don’t get me wrong, D - it’s not like I want to do this - I don’t wanna forget what we did - but I will if you need me to. Just keep that in mind when I piss you off, ok? Don’t forget what I feel, alright?” His fingers prodded D’s chin up, so he could brush a kiss across D’s salt-dampened lips. “Don’t forget me.” D nodded faintly once again, unresisting, and Leon took his warm mouth for one last desperate kiss.
When Chris looked went looking for his big brother and the Count to call them into the cabin at the captain’s behest, he couldn’t find them at first. There was a very heavy mist, as though a cloud had landed on the ship, and it muffled the deck like cotton wool, making it hard to see or hear. He cautiously went forward, feeling his way along the side of the cabin, calling out to them softly. The fog washed around him, occasionally lightening when a shaft of moonlight pierced through the towering clouds above. For a brief moment Chris thought he saw them, two outlines that were clearly Leon and D, but wrapped together tightly as if embracing. He blinked unbelieving and the mist kindly obscured that confusing vision. He called again but there was still no answer. Worried, he turned back to the cabin to tell the captain he couldn’t find them. But in the space of those few short steps, the ship cut through the last of the fog and sailed silently out into moonlight and clear seas. Chris turned back and saw them quite clearly there at the rail, but they weren’t hugging or doing anything odd. They were standing a few feet apart, watching the waves, silent and at peace, not arguing for once. Chris breathed a sigh of relief and put the weirdness out of his head.
The Mermaid smiled and blew them a kiss as she waved goodbye.
End.