Thanks to a conversation between Blackstorm and I, this little idea was born and hasn't been willing to leave either of us alone, so I finally decided to give in and write it~ I hope everyone enjoys it and thank you for the inspiration, encouragement and the title, Storm~!

Anyway, before you get started; This is rated M for a reason... like most of my stories, there is a good chance there will be violence/gore and more than likely some ideologically sensitive materials

Now, enough of my crap! Enjoy~

Stumbling from the quiet little bar and out into the darkening street, two young men laughed as one tripped and nearly fell, pulling the second along with him. They righted themselves and continued down the street, one chattering noisily, his words slurred and boastful. A few minutes went by as they continued on their path, the second man nearly silent as he rolled his eyes at what the first was saying, before making a left into an even darker alleyway, the air cool and ominously still within the deeper shadows.

The more intoxicated of the two frowned curiously but when he turned his head to look at the hot little piece he was bringing back to his place for the night, his head spun precariously and he forgot what he was concerned about as he fought off the wave of nausea the action caused.

"Feeling alright there, big boy?" The smaller asked, his voice deep and husky but not nearly as slurred as it should have been for the drunken state he feigned.

"Ganna be feelin' better when we get back to my place. I'm ganna fuck that pretty little ass of yours so good." The drunken man replied, throwing his arm clumsily over the other's slim but strong shoulders, his breath foul and smelling of far too much alcohol.

"I bet you will." The smaller male mumbled a little disgustedly, letting his eyes wonder the area as the man beside him leaned against his solid frame for the support his wobbly legs couldn't seem to provide him with at the moment. Sometimes he really hated doing this, but only because of how disgusted he was with the men that pawed all over him like he was some prize they had won with all their terrible flirting and macho talk. Hah, what a joke, and to think; they thought they were the ones getting him drunk. But it was always worth it in the end. Even if he wasn't actually the one getting his hands dirty, so to say, the action brought him great satisfaction and it always led to a wonderful night of passion afterward.

He pulled to a stop, relieved when the sudden action didn't throw the larger man at his side off balance too badly. His partner wasn't going to be too pleased if the man couldn't at least make an effort to hold his own. "This looks good enough."

"What? Here?" The man slurred, slow to comprehend what he was being told before a lewd grin pulled at his features. "Didn't know you were that desperate..."

"I could never be that desperate." The smaller mumbled again, his tone scoffing as he carefully pulled a little wooden object from his pocket with gloved hands. The totem was carved with the symbol of an old legend, an old tale from a time when people believed in many gods, a different one for everything. This one, however, was the symbol for just one god; that of a death god, a reaper of human souls.

He slipped the object's leather cord handle around the victim's neck so that the carving faced inward, the symbol hidden against the man's chest over his heart. Ignoring the older man's babbling about who knew what, the smaller man stepped back, a loving and slightly apologetic smile curving his full lips to reach his kind and gentle eyes, though no trace of regret could be found in their warm, chocolaty depths.

"Sorry, love... He's a bit tipsy...He couldn't hold his liquor quite as well as I had thought..." The young man said quietly as a shadow separated it's self from the deeper, more natural ones of the alley, the moonlight catching and making his unnaturally bright hair shine like the dying sun still trying to cling to the horizon as he watched his lover reveal himself.

A man as white as the moon overhead came into view, separating from the black shadows surrounding him like something angelic stepping out of the pits of hell. His long, equally colorless hair was pulled back to keep the feathery locks clean. He didn't bother wearing dark clothing to help conceal himself and a white, beater tank top hugged his leanly built and muscled torso like he wasn't even wearing it. Baggy, grey shorts hung down passed his knees, held up by a black cloth belt around slim hips. The only color adorning his pale figure was the liquid gold of his strangely entrancing, inverted eyes, more hellish than angelic.

The intended victim spun about, looking from the handsome young man he had thought he was bringing home with him for the night to the colorless figure that edged around him, watching and studying him like a hungry jackal. A wide grin slowly stretched across a ghostly visage as the newcomer strode confidently to the side of the lesser drunk man.

"Nah, he'll do fine, Aibou. I was gettin' a lil' jealous a him puttin' 'is hands all over ya anyway." With that, the pale man leaned in to engage the slightly smaller, more colorful man in a passionate and possessive kiss that quickly tried to turn heated. A navy tongue danced with it's more naturally colored mate, fighting for dominance and mapping all it could reach before he was forced to pull away. Behind him, the intended victim of his unhealthy little obsession started fussing about in his confusion and growing agitation, his situation still not sinking passed the alcohol clouding his brain.

"Who the fuck'er you?" The bigger man asked, trying his hardest to sound intimidating, the the effect was lessened by the liquor weighing his tongue down, a scowl on his features as he stared at the newcomer with glassy eyes. "You cock blocking?"

"It don' matter who I am." The pale man snorted in dry amusement, the fiery gold of his iris' glowing and swirling with a hunger and growing dislike for the man before him. As he took a step toward his victim, the more colorful of the two smirked and calmly turned about, sticking his hands in his pockets and disappearing from the alleyway. His part of the job was done and now all he had to do was wait for his partner to return home for a night of well earned reward.

This victim would mark their sixth in half as many months as word of a new and devastating serial killer swept the city by storm. The first string of unsolved murders the city had seen in decades, every newspaper's headline spoke of the 'Shinigami Killer'. While the citizens scrambled and chattered nervously about divine judgment and homicidal neighbors, the police and investigative forces searched for the culprit, baffled by the stunning lack of evidence left behind even on the killer's calling card; the wooden medallion left around each victim's neck that had earned the murderer his or her name.

At nearly the same time, on the opposite side of the city with the moon high overhead, a sharp, curved blade sliced through the slowly cooling flesh of a fresh kill with precise and practiced motions. Unlike the famous killer from London that had originally perked his curiosity as a child and helped light the way for what he had become, it wasn't just organs that he harvested nor were his victims prostitutes.

The tongue was the first to be collected, placed safely in it's designated container inside a lined and inconspicuous bag. Next were the other more delectable parts. Muscle was cut away from bone, flayed and sheared by a professional's steady hand. Blood ran down his strong hands, dripping from long fingers and spreading out below the body to paint the sidewalk in the prettiest shade of deep and brilliant crimson.

A red river ran through the gutter at the edge of the street, disappearing into the sewers while he worked on opening the body up to continue his harvest. The smell of fresh meat lingered in the air and forced the man to inhale the scent deeply as would any predator faced with it's next meal, an almost manic grin curving full lips to reveal perfect white teeth.

Before the light of day could reveal what had happened, the man was gone, disappearing into the darkened night like a shadow, like a creature that had never really been there at all. Taking with him the fruit of his labor, he left a hollowed out and mangled carcass in his wake, leftovers for the scavengers to find and another homicide to confound the police.

The day after the most recent killing, in a quiet little neighborhood just inside the city's boundaries, the birds chirped and sang, filling the mid morning air with a fluid and pleasant melody as the citizens began awakening, giving away nothing of the busy activities from the night before. Too far from the opposite side of the town, the sirens that had shattered the still, predawn silence hours ago had gone unheard but not unexpected and at least one man was up and waiting, eager to start the day.

"Hey, come look at this!" Sitting on the edge of the plush couch, nearly falling off as he stared at the television, brown eyes widened and a slight smirk pulled at the man's features. This was not quite what he had been expecting.

The morning news played across the screen, the headline scrolling in big, bold letters about another murder. The images and video footage were considered too graphic to not be censored but there was no hiding the amount of blood soaking into the concrete of the sidewalk, nor the police officer retching on the edge of the screen, his face pale as another zipped up a body bag that looked far to empty and light to contain the corpse of the adult that it was claimed to hold.

"Wha'dya want? I'm tryin' a sleep..." Another man yelled back from somewhere down the hall, his voice distorted both naturally and from the dream he was trying to go back to.

"Hurry up! You're going to love this one, Shiro..." More footage of the crime scene played on the screen, the background eerily silent in the early morning, the few onlookers too busy covering their gaping mouths to utter a sound.

From the bedroom down the hall, sheets were rustled, a few muttered curses following before there was a thud. Sitting on the couch, the first man chuckled as he listened to his lover's cursing grow louder before the pale man stumbled from the room and into the hall, the dark sheet wrapped around his waist and dragging behind him. His white hair was tangled and messy as he stifled a yawn, rubbing at one inverted eye with his fist.

"This better be good, Ichi...ya know I didn' get any sleep las' night." Shiro mumbled, dragging himself down the hall and into the sitting room to plop down on the couch next to his man. He pulled his legs up on the cushions to stretch across the couch, letting his head drop into his lover's lap before finally directing his attention to the tv screen as long fingers gently ran through his tangled mane. "We get another pet name er somethin'?"

"Not quite...Seems like someone is stealing our spotlight." Ichigo answered. He couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips. Shiro was going to get a kick out of the news. He probably wouldn't be too thrilled at first, but he'd love the challenge later.

On the television, a woman in a business suit jacket and a matching, knee length skirt began speaking, an ambulance and several police cruisers in the background, lights flashing but sirens quiet. "...the city was rocked by yet another murder early this morning, the culprit unknown. While details are still limited at this point, the police do not believe this incident to be connected to the recent string of homicides by the serial killer known as the Shinigami..."

"Wha' the fuck?" Shiro all but bolted into a sitting position, his fatigue forgotten as he stared at the screen. "Who the hell's tha' punk think he is? Treadin' on my territory..."

Ichigo chuckled but covered it well before he spoke. "So that one wasn't you? I didn't think you would have changed your MO so randomly, not while we've been doing so well."

"Tch. Probably jus' some kid thinkin' he's tough, er a gang maybe. I bet he ge's caught and we go back ta bein' the headline wit'in the week." Shiro said, his voice nearly an indignant growl as he laid back down and made himself comfortable again, his head once more laying on his lover's lap.

"I don't know..." Ichigo continued running his thin fingers through ashen locks as Shiro drifted back off to sleep where he lay on the couch. "I have a feeling this guy knows what he's doing."

"' ya always gotta be right, don' ya." It was more of a statement than a question, mumbled in sleepy tones that made Ichigo smirk down at his pale lover.

Ichigo snorted a laugh in answer, twirling his fingers through the long hair splayed across his lover's shoulders and across his own legs. He tugged gently, letting his fingers massage the man's scalp while his nails just barely scratched in slow, sensual patterns.

A quiet groan rumbled against his leg while Shiro continued to lay unmoving, his eyes shut and his breathing nearly evened out in the sleep he was trying to fall back into. "Tha's not fair...Aibou..."

"Come on, Shi...I know you too well..." Ichigo purred out, a smirk on his pink lips as he continued his ministrations. He let one of his hands wonder, gliding down the well toned and smooth expanse of milky, flawless skin that covered Shiro's exposed back, his fingers splayed. "You can't tell me it doesn't get you going at least a little...the thought of having some real competition...a real challenge..."

"Didn' ya get enough las' night?" The albino asked, though his grin could be heard in his words. Ichigo was right of course. The idea of having someone nearly as dangerous as they themselves were lurking through the streets was nearly as big of a turn on as what the more colorful man was doing to him at the moment. The thrill of the hunt was all fine and dandy but where was the fun without another deadly opponent to play the game, another predator to stalk the same streets?

"Never." Ichigo smirked down at his lover and partner as the man rolled over to look up at him with gold on black eyes that shone with mischief and more than a little arousal.

A wide grin pulled at Shiro's startling handsome features, the expression somehow lewd, creepy and incredibly sexy at the same time. He slowly climbed to his feet, letting the sheet he had wrapped about himself fall to the floor and that was all the encouragement his mate needed.

There was very little foreplay involved, both on the verge of being too excited about the unexpected turn of events to engage in any. Ichigo stood from his place on the couch and before long had Shiro pinned on his back in the middle of their sitting room floor. The grin never left the albino's pale lips as he helped his man pull his shirt off to be thrown and forgotten somewhere near by.

"Ya even have time fer this?" Shiro asked, his golden eyes roaming the delicious sight his lover's toned upper body presented him with, his hands settling on Ichigo's slip and perfectly cut hips.

The orange haired man shrugged as his nimble fingers worked at the button of his slacks. "I've got about an hour until I have to be at the shop."

"Guess we better hurry." Shiro lifted Ichigo up, his hands anchored around the man's hips so that Ichigo could slip his pants further down his lean thighs. They didn't bother removing the clothing completely and Shiro none to gently plunged two fingers into the more colorful man's entrance.

Ichigo grit his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he arched his back but he couldn't help the moan that tumbled from his lips at the rough pleasure. Shiro spread his fingers as he pumped them in and out of the willing man straddling him, his azure tongue peeking out to run across his pale lips as he watched Ichigo's face flush with his arousal.

As his straining member brushed against Ichigo's own hard cock, he pulled his fingers from the man and almost roughly pushed Ichigo off him. Ichigo landed on his ass on the floor but he wasn't given time to process what had happened before Shiro had him on his knees, his face pressed into the soft carpet.

With a single thrust, Shiro lined up and was pushing his throbbing member into the other's tight, heated passage, groaning at the pleasure that coursed through his body. Ichigo cried out below him, pushing backward to force Shiro into action as the pale man seated himself. A quick and almost brutal pace was set, Shiro pounding into Ichigo from behind while Ichigo moaned and did his best to meet his lover's insatiable thrusts.

Neither could ever get enough after making a kill and it showed in the way they moved, the way the moaned and cried out in their pleasure as sweat dripped between pale shoulder blades and tanned hands clawed at the carpeted floor.

"f...fffuck–harder, love..." Ichigo grit out between pants.

Shiro groaned in answer, bending over his lover's back to nip and lick at the back of the man's neck while he complied, thrusting harder and faster. Ichigo pushed back against him, his knees sliding a bit where they were planted in the plush carpeting, his pants keeping him from spreading them any wider.

A warm hand wrapped around his neglected member and Ichigo sucked in a quick breath in his surprise before he released the air in a low, moaning sound. Long fingers stroked in time to Shiro's thrusts while the other pale hand forced him to rotate his hips, black painted nails leaving crescent shaped bruises along his tawny skin.

White flashed before Ichigo's vision, pulsing as Shiro's cock found his prostate. He didn't hear the pleasured sound the tumbled from his lips, but Shiro did and a smirk curled pale lips as the man thrust forward again, abusing his mate's most sensitive spot while he stroked the man's rigid and leaking erection.

A few well placed and strong thrusts later, Ichigo cried out as his orgasm racked through him and he spilled his seed across Shiro's hand and their carpet. The colorless male followed shortly behind as heated walls pulsed and milked his length and he came inside his lover as the two collapsed to the floor.

As Shiro pulled out, Ichigo rolled over, a smile on his face, to wrap his lean arms around the albino. He kissed the top of the man's head as his panting breaths returned to normal and Shiro snuggled close, his long white hair falling into his face.

"Ya gotta leave now?" He asked, an almost childish sulking pout in his lilting tone.

Ichigo chuckled and nodded but he left his arms thrown around the slightly more muscular man for a few more minutes before they both began climbing to their feet. Shiro grumbled unhappily but a slight smirk pulled at his features and he helped Ichigo steady himself while the more colorful of the two pulled his tight pants back up to once again settle around his waist.

Ichigo didn't bother looking for the discarded shirt, instead hurrying down the hall to their shared bedroom to quickly pick out a new one before he was rushing out the door.

The dark sheet again wrapped precariously about Shiro's lower half, he followed behind his lover and leaned out the open doorway to grab hold of Ichigo's hand before the man got too far. Ichigo spun around to look into the deep, swirling golden eyes that held him rooted in place. Those tantalizing orbs never failed to mesmerize him no matter how long they had been together. Shiro smirked again before leaning forward to give his stunned lover a quick and chaste kiss before he left for the day.

"No flirtin' wit anyone ya don' wan' ta die." He said playfully, his lilting voice quiet and teasing. Ichigo was his and always would be. He was hardly worried and really didn't care who the orange haired man talked to and flirted with so long as Ichigo continued to come home to him, but it was always fun to tease the poor guy.

"No killing anyone while I'm gone." Ichigo joked back, a loving smile on his face while he chuckled at his lover's antics. His attention was drawn back to the sheet still barely clinging to the man's milky hips as Shiro leaned against the door frame and crossed his wiry arms over his chest, the cloth shifting and slipping with his movements to reveal a neatly trimmed trail of ashen hair that lead to a rather noticeable bulge barely hidden within the blanket. "Go back inside before you give our neighbors a heart attack."

Shiro's lilting laughter filed through the morning air as Ichigo gently pushed him back inside, a slight flush of color showing on his cheeks. Shiro peeked his head back out the door again for one last kiss before the more colorful man spun about and jogged off toward his car, already running behind. The albino closed the door and disappeared back inside their shared home, walking down the hall to change into real clothing so he could begin doing the few chores that needed taken care of for the day.

Ichigo made the drive to the small cafe he worked at in record time. Luckily the streets were still cleared out as the few awakened citizens buzzed about what the news had broadcasted this morning. He parked his car around back and rushed through the employee entrance, pinning his name tag on as he went. He clocked in a minute late and smiled as his young, red headed coworker greeted him with a cheery and bit too loud voice.

He was surprised to see that they already had a few guests, including one who had yet to place an order. A man that Ichigo had never seen in the cafe before sat in the far corner booth, up against the front window and out of the way from where most of the customers had gathered. He was so engrossed in his newspaper that he didn't hear Ichigo approach him.

Ichigo stood beside the booth for a few moments, waiting to be noticed and acknowledged as he watched the curious man. He wore a plain, black T-shirt that was neither too loose nor too tight and a pair of simple, faded blue jeans. His severe brows were creased in an eternal scowl that seemed to somehow suit the man and would have made anyone else look permanently pissed off. His hair was cut short and styled in a chaotic mess that made Ichigo wonder if he had actually styled it all or if it was natural and the color it's self was so very strange and unique that it couldn't have been real. The orangette guessed the man's natural color must have been blond for the pale blue to take so well and look so vibrant, yet it too seemed to suit the man somehow.

Finally, Ichigo cleared his throat and peered over the man's shoulder until he spotted the headline of the article the man was reading. He ignored the gruesome, black and and white photo of the victim, noting that Shiro had done quite the number this time. But having gotten used to seeing the 'Shinigami' killer make the headlines months ago, he didn't give any outside indication that it meant anything to him even though he couldn't help the stirring of pride and nervousness that bubbled in his gut.

"Kind of crazy that the police haven't caught them yet, isn't it?" He asked the man, finally gaining his attention.

The stranger grunted before he folded the paper up and set it aside. "What a waste." The man's voice was deep and grating even as he spoke in a quiet tone to match the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the cafe.

Ichigo was startled as eyes as blue and deep as the oceans themselves were turned his way, hardly able to register the words the man had spoken. The man's penetrating azure gaze quickly gave Ichigo a once over that seemed to tingle as if those stunning eyes could see right through his clothing before a single blew brow quirked just slightly and the man turned back to face the empty booth in front of him. He spoke again, a single word and it took Ichigo a moment to process the request.

"Oh, r-right." He hurried off to bring the man his coffee. There was something different about this man, about his customer. Something powerful and caged swirled in those endless blue depths that passed as human eyes. Ichigo could almost feel that hungry gaze as he walked away.

His words came back to Ichigo as the orange haired man poured a fresh cup of black coffee. It had been such a simple statement, something that could have meant anything but something about the man's gruff tone made him wonder if he should be taking them at face value.

This man was more than he seemed, more than he let on and Ichigo knew he wouldn't be able to leave him alone. He was drawn to the bigger man and he knew exactly what that meant. A smirk tugged at his lips, one that would match his lover's when he got home that night to tell the albino of the news.

With the coffee poured, Ichigo all but sauntered back to the booth the blue haired man sat alone in. He might as well get started now, Shiro would get a kick out of it. Placing the coffee on the table beside the man, he slid in across from him and waited for those crazy blue eyes to turn away from the paper once again, pinning him in their depths.

"I've never seen you in here before. Visiting for business?" Ichigo asked, his tone light in friendly conversation as he made small talk with the stranger. Again, those too blue eyes raked over his form quickly, appraising him in a strange way that almost made him uncomfortable at first. Or maybe it was just because of how very depthless the man's gaze seemed.

"Something like that." The blue haired visitor said, a lazy grin stretching across his handsome features before it was gone, replaced by his impassive expression once more.

Ichigo let a charming smirk show openly as he spoke again, careful to keep his tone neutral and friendly, making it impossible to distinguish any real motive behind his seemingly harmless questions. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"A couple months at least." The man said, raising a single blue brow at the bold red head sitting in front of him, his untouched coffee cooling where it sat on the table beside him.

Ichigo nodded at the man's answer, his chocolaty eyes bright and alert as he leaned back in his seat. A couple months sounded like plenty of time to him.

So~ What does everyone think? Let me know if this is worth continuing please~