The darkness was a comfortable place for him; when he entered his room, Youji didn't immediately turn on the lights. This was partly due to his growing headache; it had been a long night. Surveillance work, then a few drinks at one of his favourite bars. A couple of hours spent with a woman he'd never see again in his life.

So far, so routine a night that he didn't think twice about it. It no longer occurred to him to wonder about the strangeness his life had taken on. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his thick shock of wavy hair as he slipped out of his shoes. Then he froze, still on the doormat, pressing slightly against the closed door. The figure seated on his chair was so still he hadn't seen it right away. Reaching into his pocket for his watch, he slid it around his wrist; with his other hand he clicked on the light.

Brilliant light assailed his tired eyes, but he squinted intently at the intruder. Putting on a smirk, he affected unconcern, slipping off his shades and putting them in his pocket.

"I do have an answering machine," he said. The blonde man in the chair frowned ever so slightly, then rose to his feet with perfect grace. Youji had to admit, this was one of the most originally-dressed attackers he'd ever had, and that included Schwartz and Schreient. The tall, lean man wore tight black pants and a white blouse that revealed a large V of smooth, bare chest; the blouse was fitted but had large puffed sleeves, something Youji had never seen on a man before. He had the most striking hair, reaching down past his knees in a fall of straight gold. There was something rather familiar about him, actually. Youji didn't let his bemusement show on his face as he ran through his memory of recent missions, trying to place this eccentrically-dressed fellow. "I am afraid that I do not understand of what you are speaking," the man said in beautiful, rather formal Japanese. Somehow hearing the intruder speak dramatically increased the sense of familiarity. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Allen Schezar, a Knight Caeli."

"A what?" Youji asked. He'd never heard of them; yet another group of rival assassins? "Never mind. What do you want with me? What the hell are you doing in my room?"

Allen Schezar's fine eyebrows bent slightly, giving his blue eyes an angry cast; he brushed a long lock away from his angular face. Then he smiled gently, erasing the negative expression. Youji's eyes went to that golden abundance; it really was the most amazing hair he'd ever seen. "There are some things which are difficult to speak of; perhaps it would be better if I simply showed you." Allen slowly walked towards him; Youji tensed up, ready for anything. His fingers found the button on his watch that would release his wire. His green eyes went very wide when Allen's fingers slid along his cheeks; his body tightened further, impossibly, as the blonde man's face moved close to his. Then Allen kissed him.

This was so startling that Youji found himself in the rare state of being at a loss for words. He would have expected himself to react violently; he hated men, after all, he hated . . . he was moaning as Allen pressed up against him. His hands fell useless at his sides. For all that Allen was a man, he had wonderfully soft lips, and he knew how to use them; it was long, long, slow, deep. Had he ever been kissed like this before? Allen's fingers were fumbling with the zipper of Youji's tight-fitting burgundy vest as their lips parted to deepen the kiss further. Youji felt that glorious hair brushing silken against his cheek; his hands rose of their own accord to bury themselves into it.

Finally Allen let him catch his breath, bending his head to press his mouth against Youji's neck; Youji was nearly panting, his eyes feeling heavy, his body feeling heated. Why did he feel this way? It didn't even make sense.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. Allen paused for a moment, his breath tickling Youji's collarbone.

"I am not entirely sure," he said. "But, at this moment, it is all I wish to do. And you?" Allen ran his tongue along Youji's collarbone as he pushed his vest and jacket off in one smooth movement. Youji let his head fall back, closing his eyes.

"Kuso," he whispered. "I don't even know." Aching heat flashed through his body when Allen bent to suckle his nipple; he clutched at that long hair now, groaning. Allen's long-fingered hands stroked his stomach, ran up his spine. One of those hands slipped down to the button of Youji's low-slung jeans and unfastened it. When the fingers so dangerously close to his arousal seemed uncertain, Youji reached down to guide them to his zipper. It really didn't matter any more, all that mattered was doing something about this screaming desire that made his skin too tight and sweat spring up on his scalp.

When Allen eased first the tight jeans, then the Calvin briefs down, and then *touched* Youji, the assassin let out a ragged breath, leaning into Allen's body, clutching the other man's shoulders. As he was stroked with gentle refinement, he kissed Allen's neck; Allen's soft moan seemed to roll straight through him. Allen was a man, but his skin was pale and smooth, and it tasted just as good as a woman's . . .

"Come," Allen whispered, gently withdrawing. Youji nearly whimpered in protest, watching the other man walk towards the bed. Allen pulled off his loose white blouse, letting it fall to the floor. Bending to slip out of his jeans completely, Youji licked his lips as he gazed at that lean, perfectly-angled torso. Allen raised his hand and beckoned; as if he were being pulled by strings, Youji went towards the bed. He abruptly slipped the heavy "watch" off his wrist and dropped it on the bedside table. There didn't seem any further need for it tonight . . .

Allen tugged him onto the bed by the hand, smiling his refined smile, his blue eyes warm and secretive. Youji's eyes widened as he was pushed down onto the bed, but he couldn't seem to speak as Allen leaned over him, blue eyes narrowed a little. His golden hair hung down like curtains, gently caressing Youji's bare chest; he shivered. Allen laid down on him then; it felt very strange to have a man's weight on him, heavier than a woman, not as soft as a woman. Strange, but not at all bad; Allen's warmth seeped into his flesh, making him nearly unbearably hot. Their mouths meshed again in an ardent kiss. He stroked Allen's chest while Allen caressed his stomach. Allen was moaning in the back of his throat as his tongue tangled with Youji's. Then abruptly he pushed himself onto all fours, producing a small tube. Youji's eyes locked on it.

"Where did you get that?" he asked hoarsely. Then he frowned, gazing at Allen's skin-tight pants. "Where *did* you get that?"

Allen was frowning at the tube.

"Saa," he said uncertainly. Then a slow smile spread across his aristocratic face. "But very well, if it is here . . ."

"Hora," Youji said weakly. Allen just kept smiling that dark smile, hooking his arm under one of Youji's long legs and raising it. Youji choked out a cry as an oily finger entered his body; his eyes were closed but he groped for Allen, finding a muscular shoulder to clutch. And yet it didn't feel bad, it didn't even hurt. He groaned when a second finger joined the first. Allen's breathing was coming quick, now; removing his hand, he pressed close; Youji's eyes flew open as he was penetrated. The soft sound he made was muffled by Allen's mouth as he kissed Youji yet again. His hand seized Youji's erection and resumed stroking it.

In a state of utter confusion, his body burning with sweet pleasure, Youji gave himself up. When Allen touched his face Youji took one of those refined fingers into his mouth; when Allen bent his head in effort, Youji kissed him. The knight's hips and hand were moving fast now; they were both moaning and panting with effort. Youji finished first, arching his back, crying out in unrestrained joy. Allen was done bare moments later, clenching his teeth, groaning out Youji's name.

Breathlessly they looked at each other; Allen withdrew and slipped onto his side, laying beside Youji. He gently stroked Youji's cheek, eyes half-lidded. Youji felt wearied from it all, far too tired to think clearly about something so muddled. Yet as he got his breath back, he felt the question slip out.

"What the hell is going on? None of this makes any sense."

Allen, chin propped on hand, drew circles on Youji's chest with his fingertip. "It is but a dream," he said. "It does not have to make sense."

"I must be working too hard," he said, "to be having dreams like that." He'd kicked the blankets off at some point, but he felt too hot to need them anyways. Swinging his legs of the bed, he scratched at his slim chest as he reached to the bedside table for his package of cigarettes. Through the blinds he could see sunlight, but this was his day off; he'd intended to sleep in. To sleep in, not to be awoken by strange dreams of two non-existent men. It was too bizarre. If Koyasu-san and the others ever found out he was dreaming about the characters he played in this way . . . well, he'd rather bite off his own tongue than tell them. And he needed his tongue for almost all of his favourite things.

To distract himself he picked up the remote and turned on the tv; the tube lit up the area in front of his bed. Flipping through the channels, he skipped past commercials, Sunday afternoon talk shows . . . he paused for just a minute as the garish colours of a children's anime assaulted his eyes. A man and a woman in coordinating clothes and a talking cat-like creature were going on about some scheme concerning a strange little yellow and black monster.

"Don't even think about it," he said to the blue-haired character that spoke with his voice. And changed the channel.

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