AN: Bonus chapter! This scene takes place between chapters 10 and 11...

**explicit content below**


His lips were every bit as soft and warm as she had imagined during their long stakeout the night before; the light stubble on his jaw tickled her cheek pleasantly. Misaki slid her uninjured arm around his back, reaching up to grip the fabric of his shirt while her other hand rested lightly on his hip. It felt good to rest in someone else's arms like this, to let him hold her as the fear and exhaustion of their escape finally caught up with her. Feeling her relax, he pulled her even closer. A shiver of desire ran down her spine, along with beads of sweat from the warmth of the room and the heat from his body.

"Mm," she murmured softly as he trailed kisses along her jaw and towards her ear. "Hei…can I call you that?" If they were going to do this - and she desperately wanted to do this - she wanted it to be with him. Not Li; not Fui.

He inhaled sharply, then nodded once before nipping at her earlobe. "It's strange; hearing that name from you. But…I think I like it."

That made her smile even more than the delicate trail of his tongue along the shell of her ear. She let go of the back of his shirt and gripped the hem instead, pulling it up as high as she could manage with just one hand; the anesthetic was still dulling the pain in her wounded arm, but she didn't want to risk tearing her new sutures by raising it too high. Hei - somehow, that name seemed to fit him more than the other two - let go of her waist long enough to help her, and pulled it over his head himself to reveal his sweat-slicked torso.

Misaki ran her hand down the hard planes of his chest to rest on the long scar just below his lowest rib, aware that he was watching her face as she did so. "What happened?" she whispered.

The scar shifted beneath her fingers as he breathed in. "I got caught off guard; it was a knife."

"You had to take care of it yourself?"

"I was alone; I didn't have a choice." He said it matter-of-factly, but there was an echo of fear and pain in his voice.

Misaki gazed into his dark eyes. "I'm glad I wasn't alone tonight."

"I am too."

Before she could do more than register the sweet rawness of his words, his mouth had closed around hers again and he was kissing her with a desperateness that she met with equal passion. His hands moved to her hips, and for a brief moment she worried that he was going to strip off her sweatpants - even with her pent-up desire it was way too soon for her to be ready for that. But instead he gripped her rear, and without warning scooped her up and set her on the counter behind them. There wasn't much space in the little kitchenette - she was squeezed between the small fridge and single-burner stove - but it meant that she could wrap her legs around his waist. The new position pressed the hardening bulge of his cock between her thighs, and her breath hitched.

"Are you okay?" Hei asked, concern flooding his expression.

"I'm fine. It's just…been a long time since I've slept with anyone," Misaki admitted. "I guess I'm a little nervous."

He pressed his forehead against hers; the movement knocked her glasses slightly askew, so he lifted them gently from her temples and set them on the stove beside her. "It's been a while for me too," he said softly. "Not since…I was a different person, the last time. We can take it slow, if - if you still want this."

She wondered if he meant that he'd been using another alias, or if it was a bigger change that he was referencing. That didn't matter either way to her, right now. "I do want this," she told him, relieved, and pressed a kiss to the heated skin of his shoulder. The way his back muscles tensed beneath her hands at the touch of her tongue stoked her desire, and she turned her kiss into a gentle bite.

He inhaled deeply at that, his nose buried in the mass of hair piled on top of her head, and brought his hands up to the shoulder harness that she was still wearing. Deftly he undid the buckles and let the harness and empty holster drop onto the stove with her glasses. Then he slipped his fingers to the hem of her form-fitting shirt. He'd raised it as high as her ribs before he paused and leaned back, a slight frown on his face.

Misaki looked up at him in confusion; when he trailed his fingers lightly along the edge of her new dressing, she understood. "Just cut the rest," she breathed, flushed and impatient despite her nerves. "It's not like I can keep it now anyway."

His eyes never leaving hers, he reached down and pulled the small knife from the sheath on his thigh. "Don't move," he warned.

Carefully, more delicately than she would have thought possible with a dagger, he cut along the shoulder seam from her missing sleeve to her collar. Her heart pounded as he sliced the seam just beneath her pulse, but she never felt so much as even the breath of the blade on her skin. The freed bit of cloth folded down to reveal her shoulder and bra strap; but the side seam was still intact.

He took her elbow then, gentle fingers barely gripping, and raised her arm slightly so as not to disturb her stitches; she held it in that position while he hooked the edge of the knife at the hem just beneath her armpit and in one long, smooth stroke, parted the cloth all the way to the bottom. Misaki's breath hissed out in time with the blade as she felt the draft on her bare skin.

Hei replaced the dagger in its sheath, then took the freed sides of her shirt and peeled them back across her torso and down her other arm. Dropping the shirt unceremoniously on the floor, he gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire.

"No one's ever undressed me quite like that before," Misaki whispered, her nerves tingling with anticipation. "The bra has hooks though," she added hurriedly. "You don't have to cut it." It was one of her nicer sports bras; she didn't want to ruin it if she didn't have to.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "There's not much room for a flash drive there."

Misaki normally didn't get much out of showing herself off for her partners, but with the hungry look in his eyes, she couldn't help trailing her hand down her throat to rest at the top of her modest cleavage. "It was here," she said, sliding two fingers into the left cup. An inadvertent gasp escaped her lips when her fingertips touched her sensitized nipple, which was already pointed and hard. Hei flexed his hips towards her slightly at the sound, and she tightened her thighs around him. "Where is it now?" she tried not to pant.

He took her hand - her left, the one that wasn't massaging her own breast in needy desperation - and guided it to just below his right hip crease. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of a zippered pocket. After slowly undoing the zipper, tooth by tooth, she slipped her hand inside. The pocket was wide enough for her to flatten her palm and stroke all five fingers down the outside of his thigh, feeling his firm muscle through the thin fabric until she brushed against the familiar shape of the flash drive.

She left the drive where it was; eyes still on his, she shifted her hand inward, towards his groin. She didn't have to go very far before she reached the hard ridge of his cock. It was lying towards his other leg, but the root was still within her grasp, and the first brush of her fingers was rewarded with a twitch towards her hand and sharp intake of breath.

Hei wasted no time in reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra and slide the straps down her arms. Misaki pulled out of it, a bead of perspiration running down between her breasts. Hei caught the droplet on his fingertip, and brought it almost reverentially to his lips.

A small groan escaped Misaki's own lips, and she returned her hand to his groin, this time slipping in behind the waistbands of both his pants and what she guessed must be boxer-briefs. As she began stroking and squeezing along his length, he bent his head to her nipple, teasing her lightly. Misaki arched her spine and leaned back against the wall. Her free hand tangled in his hair and held him against her breast.

He moaned low in his throat as she stroked him, the sound vibrating on her skin. Misaki tugged his pants and boxers down just far enough to pull his erection free. Pre-cum leaked into her hand as she rolled his foreskin up and back, adding a little twist with her thumbs on each stroke of his shaft.

Hei released her nipple with a small gasp. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep that up," he said hoarsely. "I've wanted you too long for this to end so soon."

Misaki froze, momentarily speechless at the admission; she could almost forget her desperation to have his mouth on her breast again. "You have?"

He looked a bit embarrassed; she got the impression that he hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Since the night we met," he admitted.

"Oh," she said, blushing a little. That night; she hadn't spared much thought for him, then. Too much else had been going on for her to really pay attention to the kind, naive young waiter who had helped her out; and the subsequent run-in with the Black Reaper had overshadowed that brief conversation in the bathroom stall. She had been such a distracted mess at the time, so… "Why?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He hesitated, then said, "Your life was on the line, but you still went out of your way to help a complete stranger. I hadn't met anyone like you before."

Misaki relinquished her grip on him to trace the scar under his ribs again, following the jagged line with a single fingernail as his abs tensed. "I'm beginning to realize that you probably didn't need my help at all." Especially not if he really was who she thought he was.

"No. But you saved me anyway."

"Like you," she said quietly. "You didn't need to save me tonight. But you did anyway."

He ran his hand down her left side, tracing some invisible line with both his fingers and his eyes. Misaki glanced down, and saw with a start a splotch of dried blood on the side of her breast that had trailed down to her hip, all the way to the waistband of her sweats. "It must have soaked through the shirt," she said dumbly.

"We should clean it up," Hei murmured, and the subtle promise in his tone sent a flood of desire straight to her already-sopping pussy. He took a step back from the counter, catching her ass to help keep her from falling to the floor. A gentle squeeze of her cheeks indicated that he wanted her to stand on her own; reluctantly she unhooked her feet from behind his waist and lowered them to the bare wood.

"Can you lay out the futon?" he asked with a somber glance at her bandage.

She had no idea he had in mind - besides the obvious, which didn't seem to have anything to do with cleaning up dried blood. "I'm sure I can manage."

Despite his instructions, though, his hands lingered on her waist for another long moment, as if he was afraid to break their skin-to-skin contact. The pure desire in his eyes had surprised her the first time she'd glimpsed it, in the hotel room; and it still did now. Her hair was a sweaty mass on top of her head, blood stained her skin, and her breasts never looked good without a bra to support them - but he was gazing at her as if he wanted to devour every single inch of her body.

She shuddered, suddenly more than ready to have him; then with a quiet exhale he tore his gaze away and turned, letting his hands drop.

Misaki walked unsteadily to the corner of the room where the bedding was folded next to a small floor fan. As she stretched out the futon one-handed, she kept an eye on Hei. He was rummaging around in the medical kit; she saw him withdraw what she hoped was a condom. Another shiver ran down her spine, and her pussy clenched in hungry anticipation.

Then he turned towards the refrigerator, opening the freezer. She couldn't see what he was doing, but heard the rattle of ice cubes. Ice water - that was a good idea. It was unbearably hot in the little room, and she was still in her sweatpants. Feeling bold, she undid the drawstring and let the pants drop to the floor before kicking them to the side.

Misaki left the top sheet folded neatly at the bottom of the futon, and switched on the fan. It didn't do much beyond stir the warm air, but it was better than nothing.

She was kneeling in the center of the futon, distractedly flattening out a few little creases when Hei returned to her side. Black really did suit him, she thought as her gaze roamed up his slim-fitting pants and took in his lean and well-toned torso. He wasn't much taller than her, but from this position he seemed to tower. Misaki was used to arguing with her partners over who would take the lead in the bedroom, but something about his stance spoke directly to her hindbrain, and she instinctively relaxed back on one arm, waiting for him to make the first move.

"I know I said all black," Hei said, crouching down smoothly to place a glass of ice and two condom packets on the floor, "but I didn't mean everything."

Misaki felt her cheeks heat. She ran a finger along the lace edge of her panties, the only black pair that she owned. "It seemed appropriate."

He stood again, his dark eyes fixed on hers, and unbuckled the knife on his thigh. Knife and sheath dropped to the floor with a clatter. Misaki lay back against the futon, feet flat on the mattress. One hand tucked under her head while the other kept playing with the lace on her underwear, as he stalked slowly to the foot of the futon until he was standing directly in front of her. Her heart was pounding, her blood singing with desire.

When he undid the ties on his pants and stepped out of them, the prominent bulge in his shorts made her instinctively draw her knees up a little higher, open them a little wider. She ached to have him in her hands again, or better, between her lips.

But before she could sit up to do just that, Hei sank down to the futon between her legs and positioned himself over her. Her heart skipped a beat as he took her wrist and pressed it down beside her hip in a clear signal that she should leave it there. She yearned to tangle her fingers in his hair, to grip the firm skin of his back - and she could, she knew - but he didn't want her to, and there was something deliciously exciting about following his tacit orders.

His chest brushed lightly against the hardened peaks of her breasts as he reached beside them. Misaki, unable to tear her gaze away from his, heard the soft tinkle of ice in the glass before he shifted back, an ice cube between his fingers. He pressed it gently to her mouth; her lips parted, and he traced the line of her lower lip. She shivered, but not from the cold.

Hei slowly trailed the ice down her chin and under her jaw to press it against her carotid artery. Misaki gasped at the almost-painful sensation; water trickled down her heated skin to drip on the futon. He continued dragging the ice, along the edge of her clavicle, between her collar bones, then down to the tip of her left breast, where he circled her hardened nipple.

The sensation was maddening, the close proximity of his mouth even more so. Misaki reached up to tug his head down - and Hei immediately removed the ice from her breast. A whimper escaped her mouth, but he merely watched her impassively until she replaced her hand at her side in frustration. Only then did he press the half-melted cube to her skin again.

She gasped at the renewed contact and her fingers gripped the mattress compulsively as he spiraled the ice down to the base of her breast, then back up to the pebbled tip, which he circled until there was only a nub of ice left between his fingers. He dropped it to the floor, and as he reached into the glass for a new piece, bent his head to her breast and sucked her nipple between his teeth.

Misaki moaned at the contrast of her chilled skin and the hot wetness of his mouth. She kept her hands where they were, but she was unable to stop her hips from bucking up into his and trapping his erection against her stomach. He flinched away from her with a groan and a shudder, releasing her nipple.

"Too soon," he said, breathing heavily.

"It's not," she protested. She was already at the edge, and neither of them had even removed their underthings yet.

The hesitant, almost shy smile that touched his lips sent a wave of longing through her, and her hips twitched again. Hei sucked in his breath at her movement; then he sat up on his knees and carefully repositioned himself, pushing her legs closed so that he was straddling her. Misaki squeezed her thighs together with a whimper; there just wasn't enough friction for her to find her own release this way.

He was watching her face with a loving fascination. Taking a new piece of ice, he gently rubbed it against the splotch of dried blood on the side of her breast until red rivulets were running down her skin. He followed the trail of the blood down her waist, making her squirm. Watery red stains seeped into the white futon; but as Hei didn't seem to care, Misaki didn't either.

The blood track ended at the top of her hip bone; presumably her sweatpants had soaked up any droplets that had made it that far. Hei, however, continued running the ice cube along the waistband of her panties. Her abs contracted, sucking in as if to escape the cold. Hei swirled the cube around her navel, where the ice melt mingled with her perspiration to bead and pool. He lowered his head, sucking it from her skin. Misaki bit her lip to keep from crying out, her grip on the futon so strong that she was surprised she hadn't ripped the fabric yet.

With a sudden groan Hei sat up. He hooked his thumbs into her panties and pulled them down. Misaki hurriedly brought her knees up, almost hitting him in the jaw in her haste, so that he could slide the lacy garment off her ankles.

"You too," she managed to gasp. Pushing herself upright - and ignoring the distant pain in her injured arm - she gripped the top of his boxer-briefs and peeled them off his hips. His erection curled tightly against his stomach; Misaki's lips had just barely brushed against the weeping tip before he was pushing her back down to the futon with trembling hands.

She watched those hands run down her body to grip her hips, hands that could easily kill her in an instant. Logically, she knew she should be afraid; but how could she fear such a gentle, loving touch?

Hei slid down her body, hooking her legs over his shoulders. Misaki felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment - she hadn't shaved in over twenty-fours hours, and between the heat of the night and the adrenaline of the job she'd probably sweated out half her bodyweight. But before she could protest the position, Hei had taken another ice cube and stroked it between her labia to the hard bud of her clit.

Misaki writhed on the futon, biting her lip so hard that she could taste blood. Hei laid a forearm across her hips, pinning them, and that feeling of helplessness just ratcheted her ecstasy higher. He plunged his tongue into her cunt, stroking in and out while he continued to circle the ice around her sensitized flesh. Misaki squeezed her thighs around his head and fisted her hands in his hair at the seemingly unending stimulation, until the wave broke over her at last.

"Oh god," she panted as she started to wind down, back to reality. "Oh god…Hei…"

His fingers dug painfully into her hips and with the tip of his tongue he flicked her clitoris relentlessly. Her second orgasm, so close on the heels of her first, caught her completely off guard and she cried aloud, dimly hoping that there were no neighbors to hear.

Misaki collapsed into the futon, muscles slack and exhausted. Hei hovered over her, his lips slick with her juices, or sweat, or both; his expression worried. How he could be so concerned when he'd just given her the most mind-blowing release she'd ever had was beyond her.

Her fingers brushed the glass of ice, dripping with condensation, beside the mattress. She wished that she had the energy to do for him what he'd just done for her, but she was completely spent. And judging from the heaviness of his breathing, he was already close to the edge himself. Instead, she closed her hand around one of the condoms and wordlessly opened it.

Hei held unnaturally still while she rolled the condom down his length, his cock twitching with each touch of her fingers. When it was on, she leaned back, propping herself on her elbows and drawing her knees apart in open invitation. Hei positioned himself at her entrance, and slowly pressed the tip in.

Despite how wet she was, despite how much she wanted him, it had been a long time - over a year - since she last had sex with anyone, and she was tight. She forced herself to breathe evenly and relax as he sank further into her, spreading her impossibly. With a groan he pressed forward until he was completely inside her; Misaki whimpered at the fullness, and his breath hitched. She whimpered again at the emptiness when he drew back and curled one arm around his neck. Her other, injured arm was starting to feel sore, so she gripped his hip instead.

Hei pressed his face into her neck as he thrust forward again, still slowly. Getting used to the feeling, Misaki started to move her hips in time with his, and he gradually picked up speed until he was setting an almost desperate pace.

He pushed her down to the futon, and her heart pounded at the sight of him above her as he continued to drive into her. A droplet of perspiration dripped from a lock of his hair to bead on her breast before rolling off. Her gaze locked onto his, Misaki stroked down his hard abs, reveling in the expression of pleasure that crossed his face.

"Misaki…" he gasped out, barely coherent. She trailed her hand further until she reached his cock pumping in and out of her, and was rewarded with a moan as her fingers brushed against it.

His mouth closed around hers; his hips stilled abruptly, then jerked as he came. With ragged breath, he kissed her jaw before easing himself out.

Misaki couldn't stop the sigh that escaped her lungs at the loss. She'd come unexpectedly close to another edge; seemingly of its own accord, her hand slipped down her stomach to her cunt, and she gasped when her fingers encountered her swollen bud.

"Still not done?" Hei whispered hoarsely, and suddenly his hand was between her legs, two fingers sliding in and out of her wet channel while his thumb swirled around her clit.

Misaki pressed her face into the futon, trying desperately to stifle her moans as he sucked at her neck and continued to stroke her pussy.

"Alright?" he asked, worry slipping into his voice.

"I'm fine," she managed. "I'm trying to stay quiet."

"Don't," he murmured into her ear before nipping at her earlobe. "I want to hear you scream."

With a swipe of his thumb, a full-body shudder overtook her, and she screamed.

When she opened her eyes at last, she was lying in Hei's arms, her skin pebbled with goosebumps where the fan blew over her beads of perspiration. Hei kissed her cheek gently, and she tucked her head against his neck with a relaxed sigh.

The knowledge that whatever false name he used, whatever lie he told her, that this, this was him, filled her with warmth that she couldn't even begin to describe.