The sound of heels clicking as they hit the cold stone flagging of the old, dark street.
The gentle pat of the heavy rain as it persisted to fall.
And the small annoyed whines of a shinigami.

When one pays such great attention to their appearance, rain really isn't welcome.

As Grell carried on walking, he threw his arms over his head in a feeble attempt to keep his hair dry, to no avail. The small cold droplets soaked him through, making his crisp shirt cling to his long, slender pale arms.
Grumbling, he turned a corner quickly, avid to find some kind of cover. If it wasn't for the masses of London citizens, he would simply have leapt from building to building, like he usually did. But he was already getting enough strange looks because of the long silken crimson tresses that swirled around his as he strode on, along with his matching coat. He would never admit to this, but it hurt him a little.
At one particularly obvious look, he haughtily brushed the hair from his eyes and raised his chin to the dark evening sky.
Feet splashing in dirty puddles and feeling thoroughly miserable, Grell lost track of the way in which he was walking. As he hurried on, he pictured the impertinent fool who had even dared to give him such a look bleeding out onto the cobbled stones of the busy street. The delicious thought making his feminine face twist into his signature smirk, his razor teeth glinting along with his emerald eyes.

Reaching the end of the thin, dingy alley he had found himself in, Grell reached a heavy oak door battered with age and laced with spider's webs. Sighing at his own airheaded tendencies, he pushed it open. As he did so, the scent of dust and decay, blood and bile rushed out to greet him. Pouting and screwing up his nose a little, he walked into the dimly lit room.

The entire of the Undertakers workshop was draped in a thick layer of sooty dust, and along with the pale moonlight pouring through the solitary tiny cracked window pane to the left of the door; the shop was given an eerie, milky glow. Solid wooden coffins lined with dark padded fabric were stood against the far wall, some with golden plates engraved with long forgotten names. A few were laid across the large, bulky oak table that took centre in the dark shop, these however were each in different stages of production, some needing nailing together, others just needing someone to occupy them. Grell walked a few steps forward, and ran his fingers over the table, leaving thin lines in the thick dust. He held his fingers to his face and tutted.
"Undertaker~? " He called haughtily, picking up a long hooked instrument from the table and observing it through his crimson glasses, "I would have thought you would have cleaned up a little, for a guest at least." His voice echoed against the shadowed walls at least twice, before a dark chuckle joined it.
The Undertaker seemed to materialize from the shadow at the far end of the room, his silver hair shining in the anaemic light, long robes sweeping soundlessly against the cold floor.

"Ahhh, but you see, my dear, I always have guests here~" He threw his long arms wide, his skeletal fingers with their long black nails peeping out the end of his sleeves, he gestured to the few corpses that occupied the small 'preparation' theatre next to the room in which there were standing. "Why would I treat you any differently?"
Once again throwing his mane of crimson hair back, Grell stepped forward into the light and daintily placed one of his hands on his slim hip and the other on his chest "Because I am Grell Sutcliffe, is that not enough for you?"
Now seeing Grell fully, the Undertaker hunched over in fits of uncontrollable laughter. His long gray hair quivered as he giggled, and his signature battered top hat threatened to fall.
Taken aback by the Undertakers actions, Grell frowned maliciously and leapt across the room, pushing on the Undertakers chest and shoving him against the damp wall.
"What is it that you find so amusing, Undertaker?" he demanded, pining the giggling mortician firmly. The Undertaker simply pushed a hand to his mouth, and feebly tried to stop the chortles escaping from him.
"Gufufu~ it is just that… you, my dear, seem to be in… "He let out a few manic giggles once again, and brought his scarred face close to the shinigami's before finishing "a bit of a pickle." He said nodding towards Grell's sodden clothes.
Grinding his sharp teeth together, Grell grimaced at his own image. Mumbling inaudibly, he let the arm that pinned the Undertaker to the wall fall, he sighed and picked at his damp shirt; forlorn.
In one swift, fluid movement, The Undertaker pushed Grell's lean frame across the shop and bent him backwards against the edge of the large oak table, his long fingers pushing down on Grell's shoulders tightly, his long nails digging in.
He leant in and whispered darkly "Don't think you can dominate me, uke." into Grell's ear.
Eyes wide with evident fright, Grell tried to push the undertaker from him, his lean arms straining, but the Undertaker seemed not to even notice. Instead, he giggled once again, a large grin set on his pale face and dug his sharp nails in, piercing Grell's porcelain skin, and causing crimson droplets to spread through his sodden clothing.
The table edge dug painfully into Grell's back, and the warmth of his own blood against his rain chilled skin wasn't at all comforting, but he wasn't going to let the Undertaker get the better of him.
Pushing his mouth into a large grin, Grell chuckled daintily,
"My My, Undertaker, you sure are forward. How lewd." He shook his crimson head in faux disapproval, before biting his lip gently. "But I guess I am…" he pouted "irresistible."
Just for a second, the wide smile on Undertakers face seemed to fade, but he regained himself quickly.
"Now now…Why, my dear, have you…" he paused and brought his hand up to gently stroke the side of Grell's face, "graced me with your… presence?"
"A fleeting visit," Grell was once again as haughty as ever, "I just wished to escape the rain." Trying to pull his face out of the Undertakers grasp, He snapped "Don't be so quick to flatter yourself."
In response, the Undertaker quickly slid the edge of his nail against his face, leaving a thing streak of red in its wake. Grell winced, but managed to keep his expression cold with pride.
"Ahh, but it is you, my dear, who flatters yourself." The undertaker spoke gravely, leaning forward and running his tongue slowly along the thin streak of red that contrasted so strongly against Grell's pale cheek. Squeezing his emerald eyes shut, Grell couldn't help but blush, prompting the thin cut to seep once again.
"Red suits you so, My dear." The Undertaker chuckled, licking his pale lips. "It always has. Even more so when it is your own." He brought his hand up again, and pressed the cut gently causing the blood to run down Grell's cheek. His fingers coated, he brought one to his mouth and licked it clean before pushing two digits into the redheaded shinigami's own mouth. As his sharp teeth pierced the Undertakers fingers, the coppery mix of both their blood filled Grell's mouth. He shuddered gently, in both pleasure and disgust.
Chuckling once again, the Undertaker removed his fingers and took hold of Grell's slim jaw roughly, before pushing his own lips firmly onto the redheads.
Strongly restrained, there was nothing for Grell to do, and he felt unbearably helpless.

The Undertaker grabbed a fistful of Grell's hair, pulling his head painfully backward towards the cold table. He leant his tall frame over the shinigami, caging him with his body. Breaking the impromptu kiss, the Undertaker hovered his face achingly close to Grell's, warm breath fogging his glasses. Grell's expression was one of malicious hatred mixed with embarrassment, as the Undertaker took a step back from him, chuckling in his own infuriating way.
"Delicious… quite…sublime." He murmured, licking his lips as he released his grip on the shinigami's shoulders. "I never thought-"

The slap knocked the fixed grin clean from the Undertakers face, and his cheek glowed red. Grell just stood there, eyes ablaze, teeth bared, and hand still raised, chest heaving as he panted.

They stood there for a few moments, frozen in motion. Then, the old smirk returned slowly to the Undertakers face, but this time it was not full of his usual joy, but achingly cold. But before he could say another word, he was engulfed by the redhead, who had leapt upon him. His thighs around the Undertakers waist, his arms around the long lean neck, Grell pushed their lips together once more, more furiously and passionately than before.
Taken aback, and against the cold wall for a second time, the Undertaker let his knees buckle a little under the shinigami's weight, but just for a second.