Author's note: This was written several months ago, for Valentine's Day. It was a challenge fic, the person requesting it being livingdeadgirl who is also a friend of mine over at Live Journal. Anyway, she wanted Dylan/Anthony smut, and this is what came out. I think it's hard R, not NC-17, so I'm going to finally post it here. Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and please review. Reviews are like crack, without the bad side effects.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor make any claim that I do. I mean no copyright infringement, these people belong to Sony Pictures and McG or whoever. So don't sue me. Savvy?


She had just gone to the club to dance. Not to pick up a guy, not to get drunk or stoned, not to have sex, just to dance and relax and be free for one night. To forget her job and her friends and her responsibilities. And it wasn't even because she was tired of those things or wanted them to go away; but there was only so much a girl could take without a small break.

She had just gone to the club to take a break. Not to wake up the next morning to find she wasn't alone, not to wake up to find she had slept with her enemy and savior.

It had all started out innocent and simple enough. Dylan had gone to a fairly popular dance club, her hips immediately swaying to the rhythm of the song that was playing when she arrived. Going over to the bar for a drink, she surveyed the crowd, bodies swaying and thumping to the beat of the techno song blaring around them.

After downing her drink, Dylan had moved into the crowd, rocking her body in time with the song playing, this one slightly slower than the one before. She smiled at the guys when they gave her appreciative looks, but otherwise left them be, preferring to simply dance with herself, to just be free.

That had lasted for a few songs, sometimes she would allow a guy to dance with her, sometimes she'd simply move away, keeping to herself. She was having fun though, and that was all that mattered to her at the moment.

Finally taking a rest, she sauntered over to the bar, ordering another drink. It was exhilarating, the music, the body heat, the murmurs and scents. Dylan smiled and took her drink form the bartender, sipping down the beverage even as her body once again started swaying to the music, ready to go back into the crowd.

She turned around, her eyes raking through the crowd as she finished the scotch. The song changed, this time to a Madonna song Dylan only vaguely remembered. She started to move back towards the other dancers when she abruptly stopped, her mouth falling open.

Blue eyes, cold as ice, were staring right back at her from the other side of the room. It was impossible, she knew that. It was just her imagination or someone who looked like him. It wasn't really him. It couldn't be. He was dead.

Wasn't he?

Dylan blinked, shaking her head slightly, and opened her eyes.

He was gone.

She looked around, almost disappointed he was gone, that it had just been her mind playing a sadistic trick on her. She sighed and moved towards the crowd when she felt a sharp tug at her hair, the familiar sting of hair being ripped registering before she could move.

Dylan bit her lip to keep from yelp down and whirled around to find him there, standing still and simply sniffing her hair.

Anthony, a.k.a. The Thin Man, alive and well and rubbing her hair against his skin as he inhaled the scent like a drug. His icy eyes closed as if in ecstasy, and all Dylan could do was stand there and gawk in confusion and just a little bit of shock. Then suddenly he was right up next to her, eyes open and looking down into hers.

She suddenly remember why she had given in that night on the roof. She remembered all too well as she stared back up at him, pale eyes intense and making her go weak in the knees even as warmth spread through her veins. Her stomach was now filled with butterflies.

Even as she tried to regain control over her body, he began to lead her out of there, away from the crowd and the pounding music. Away from witnesses, perhaps. She could never let herself forget; he was an assassin. One of the best.

Still, she let him take her away, his grip around her arm firm but not near enough to hurt. It was the grip of a man who knew he could beat her should she fight but didn't feel the need to make her hurt just to prove it. It almost scared her.

But the fact that she didn't actually have a problem with it terrified her.

Soon they were near the exit, but instead of leading her out, she found herself pinned against the wall, a mouth pressed against hers. For a moment, Dylan though about pushing him away, or at least trying. Then she felt his tongue against her lips and all thoughts of resisting flew out the window. Strong hands gripped her hips, holding her in place while his mouth was demanding against hers. She reached up, grabbing his shoulders as she returned his passion.

She had come there to forget for the night who she was, what she was. She refused to let this change that. She was enjoying it, wanted it to go much further in the direction they were swiftly heading. She was after all, Dylan. And he was a bad guy, or used to be a bad guy or something to that effect. The ability to think clearly was fading, fast.

Abruptly he was gone, his body distanced from hers so fast she never even felt him move. He watched her as she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall behind her as her breath calmed down.

She watched him as well, taking in ever detail. He was dressed exactly as he almost always was, black, pinstriped suit, hair parted and slicked down. He was missing a cane though. That didn't mean he was unarmed though, she knew he used a gun every so often.

What was he up to exactly?

Leaving, that's what it looked like. Sharply turning away, he walked back into the crowd, almost hidden by the bodies of the dancers before Dylan finally reacted. No way was he leaving just like that, no way.

Something told her to let him go, to just walk away herself. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her how disastrous her love life was. It told her he had nearly killed Alex, had tried to kill all of them before. She always fell for the bad guy, and she always landed in trouble.

Dylan headed forward, pushing through the crowd towards his retreating back. It was just a chance she was going to have to take. She at least wanted some answers. He was not going to get away, not this time. This time there was no case, no agenda, no fighting, no Seamus. This time they were going to finish it. After that, well, she decided not to think that far ahead.

Trying to keep him In sight, Dylan maneuvered between rocking bodies and groping couples, but soon he was gone, lost amidst the crowd. She turned around, moving in a circle as she searched for the familiar pinstriped suit. Nothing. He had just, disappeared.

Again. Was he even human?

"Great," she muttered. "Well, there goes that." with a defeated sigh, she left the crowd, walking back towards the exit. Time for her to go home, because she was not going to be able to pretend it had never happened and act like everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.

"I hate today," she whispered as she walked back towards her car.

Dylan entered her home, absentmindedly turning on the light before walking over and setting her keys and jacket on the closest coffee table. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she made her way to the bedroom, quickly ridding herself of shoes and socks.

There were no messages on her answering machine, which was a relief. She didn't feel like talking to anyone now. She started to go into the bathroom when she stopped, frozen in place as she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. Faint, but definitely there. But she had stopped smoking three years ago.

"Anthony," she said softly, turning around. There he stood, in the shadows of her bedroom, his body relaxed. She was slightly thrown off by the strange, nonchalant manner he had at the moment, used to seeing him tense and ready, almost itching it sometimes seemed, for a fight.

He moved finally, walking over to her. A hand reached out, towards her neck, and she took a step back. She almost jumped slightly when she felt cool fingers clasp the silver chain she wore, holding it up to pull the medallion out from under her shirt. He stared down at it, his eyes blank. They moved up, meeting hers.

Dylan almost envied him. He never spoke, perhaps didn't even remember how, yet he was perfectly fine without talking. But there she stood, at a loss of words and trying desperately to think of something to say.

"Oh, screw it." Not exactly what she had planned, but it would do.

This time it was she who initiated the kiss, wrapping her arms around him as she pressed her mouth against his. She felt his hands grab her hips again, pulling her right up against him as he returned the kiss. Dylan started to push him backwards, moving with him until their legs hit the bed, and they fell onto the mattress.

Oh yes, this was right where she wanted him. Definitely.

Hands roamed over bodies, removing clothes as fast as possible. Dylan cried out in pleasure as she felt a hand move down to remove her underwear, briefly brushing against her sex. She smiled in satisfaction when he hissed as she moved her leg between his thighs, pressing it against his own arousal. They swiftly rid themselves of the rest of their clothes, flesh meeting bare flesh.

Dylan ran her hand up his torso and chest, over his shoulders, and down his back. She could feel his strength underneath his pale skin, though his body was not overly muscular. She closed her eyes, letting out a small gasp as his fingers teased her breasts. His touch wasn't exactly gentle, but Dylan certainly wasn't going to complain.

He kissed her neck, sucking on the skin right above her collar bone. His hands moved back down to her hips, fingers grazing against her skin lightly before gripping her thighs, gently pushing them apart as he positioned himself between them.

Dylan groaned when he entered her in one swift thrust, yielding to his mouth as he kissed her fiercely again. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding her hips against his, trying to make him move again. As he did, she lost all thought, all knowledge of anything except that she was on fire.

He was neither rough or gentle, but somewhere perfectly in between as he thrust into her repeatedly, his mouth moving from hers as he inhaled her scent, sniffing her hair. Dylan raked her nails over his chest before wrapping her arms around his back. He held her waist firmly as he moved within her.

Gasps and groans heightened as they began to rock against each other faster, nearing the end. Suddenly Anthony stiffened, and Dylan could feel his whole body tense as he came, thrusting into her once more and pushing her over the edge as well.

Panting as she came back down from the high, she held him tighter to her body, refusing to let him move away. There was some need, some deep longing inside her for him to stay with her, and she did not want to be alone after this. She couldn't let him just disappear again.

He stared down at her, his eyes soft now as he reached up to brush her hair back, fingers entwining in the locks but never pulling. She knew he wasn't planning on just getting up and walking away from this, not yet. He rolled over, letting her lie her head on his chest. He inhaled her scent again, fingers still running through her hair.

Dylan snuggled closer, content and sated. She faintly heard him sigh as she drifted off to sleep.

The first thing Dylan registered when she woke up was the fact that she was not alone in her bed. In fact, she was lying on top of the other person in her room, quite comfortably actually. Her right leg was draped over the definitely male body, while her head and right arm were on top of his chest and torso. The man's arms were wrapped around her body, and from the sound of his breathing, he was awake.

Moving her head to look up at him, she found herself staring into a familiar pair of icy blue eyes. She suddenly remember what had happened last night, what she had done. Who she had done. She laid her head back down on his chest, hiding from his gaze.

It was strange how in the morning, things were never right. They were worse, because the full impact of what had happened, what you had done, what you had seen, where you had been, it finally hit you full force.

She had slept with the enemy. Knowingly slept with the enemy. Not mistaking someone for a nice guy, not thinking that she might have fallen for a normal, decent guy. She had slept with The Thin Man, an assassin that had tried to kill her and her friends. Anthony, an orphan who had saved her and her friends and Max.

Everything was all mixed up, and she didn't know what to think. She wanted to think that perhaps he was no longer an enemy, but how could she, really? She wanted to pretend that they could be normal, but how would they ever be that way? She wanted to imagine it could work out, but she wouldn't fool herself.

He would leave, and they would never be able to be.

Anthony finally moved, pushing her over onto her back. He stared down at her for several seconds, just looking down at her. He then leaned down, kissing her. His hands slid over the skin of her abdomen, as gently as a man like he was could be.

Dylan shoved away her thoughts. She would at least enjoy it while it lasted.

The insistent sound of her cell phone ringing rudely woke Dylan from her sleep, and she moved to grab it from the bedside table.

"Hello?" she mumbled groggily.

"Dylan," came Natalie's worried voice, "are you all right?"

Dylan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you haven't come into the office, and it's after ten o-clock," Natalie informed the slowly waking up angel. "We've been calling for nearly ten minutes after we decided something must be wrong since we hadn't heard from you."

Dylan turned over, looking around her room. "I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night," she said as she held back a sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you guys. It's just been rough the past few nights for some reason."

Natalie let out a relieved sigh. "It's ok, Dylan. I know how you feel. Do you want a vacation, some time off for a little while?"

"No, I'll be ok. Expect me there in forty-five minutes." Dylan waited for Nat's reply and goodbye before she turned the cell off. She reluctantly got up and walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen, looking around for any sign of Anthony.

None. He was gone.

And they were back to square one.