| 09) Kitty - Brother Of My Soul Kitty came in with Karla an hour early to the Social room. They had volunteered to do the set up for the month. They swept, put up tables and wrangled the food and drinks. Kitty tidied up the alcoves and sprayed the curtains and blankets with air freshener that she'd liberated from the bathroom. Just because they were Hounds didn't mean no one should make an effort to improve the ambience. The guys might not notice, but she thought the ladies would appreciate it. She'd found a dusty box of streamers that hadn't been bothered with in far too long. She was picking out colors when she sensed someone behind her. Whirling around, she found Kurt standing there, with a somber smile on his face. She squealed and flung her arms around his neck. He winced at the sharp noise, but his arms tightened around her hungrily. "Sorry love." "I missed you, too, liebchen," he said with a chuckle. "Can you help us with this? I'd like to make the place into less of a pit today." "It already smells better. Did someone launder the bedding?" "Me, probably. They get so grotty from all of this..." her hands gestured vaguely. He looked confused. "Nasty, disgusting, grotesque; grotty," she explained. "Ah," he said. "An apt word for it." "Good evening, Kurt. What are you doing here so early?" "Mission privilege, Frau Karla." His face was carefully neutral, but his tail twitched. "So, you two have things to discuss later." He nodded gravely. "You can't take her off until we're done, though. We want to finish the decorating." "Then permit me to assist and speed things along," he said with a bow. "What's going on? What's wrong?" Kitty was getting concerned. "Missions are troubling things, sweety. As troubling as some of our tests." She gave Kitty a significant look. "He probably needs to unburden on you, like you did last month." Kitty looked at him, stroking his jaw line. He let his tension show in his face for a moment. "Okay, let's do this, so I can go help my elf..." "Ich bin elfenhaft? Ah... I am elvish?" She touched the edge of his ear tenderly, stroking lightly up to the joint. He shuddered and his tail went into a convulsive attempt to tie itself into knots. He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest, his eyes blazing intensely. "Not here." He took a deep breath and released her, picking up the streamers. "Tape?" "Right here." She watched, as he did in minutes what she and Karla couldn't have done in an hour, if they had a ladder, which they didn't. Karla loaded up the double turntables, and started the music. Kurt reached out for Kitty, and they danced a bit in the big room. They finished with a close embrace and a deep kiss. "Katzchen," he groaned softly. Applause made them start in surprise. Karla smiled at them. "I am so happy for you two. Kurt, you're a far cry from the uncertain lad I met a few months ago. It makes me sorry I didn't give you more of a chance." She winked. "Kitty, I'm really glad that you found someone. Not get along before anyone else gets here. He needs you." They waved and hurried away to the lower levels of the Carrier. "I sometimes think it's appropriate," he said as they left the elevator. "That one who has been called a demon should live in the depths of this, our Hell." His rueful chuckle sounded a little forced. Kitty stopped him outside his door, pushing close to him, pinning him against the wall. "You're not a demon, Kurt. Never that." You're my Elvin prince..." She kissed him timelessly. He swept her up in his arms, opened the door with his tail, and carried her to the couch, all without breaking the kiss. She pulled away finally, laughing. "A man of many talents, I see." He colored purple under the blue fur, and she touched his cheek to feel the heat of his blush. "Modest, too." "Und mein Katzchen is in a playful mood today, ja?" "Ja." She smiled. "Why do I get the idea that I'm going to learn a lot of German with you?" "It would only be fair, I know a lot of English... and there are moments when it is impossible to translate one's thoughts from the native tongue." He kissed her just below her ear, smiling as she shivered from the feeling of his breath and his lips. "Okay..." she said pulling back a little. "We need to talk about your mission, or we'll just make out the rest of the evening... not that it would be a bad thing." "'Make out'? I'm afraid my English slang is weak, liebchen." "American, actually. I don't think the British say this." She touched his lips, and waggled her eyebrows, all the while blushing furiously. "Sex play, with or without the sex." "Hmm. Tempting... but later." He smiled a little, and sat back. "At the beginning of the month, they forced my port weight up to 150 lbs, with the addition of rubber, and real bullets as incentive." He shrugged off the top of his suit and showed her the bullet crease on his arm, the fur on the healing mark lighter and shorter than on the rest of his arm. She pressed her fingers to her lips and then on the mark. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks. "When I achieved the goal they'd set, they began training me to open doors and safes. They gave me lock picks and things like that. My job on the mission was to cross distances the team couldn't make on their own, quietly, and help them to follow me. I ported across the roof and sent them a grapple. If they had fired it from their side it might have alerted someone. I walked up the wall with a rope for them to climb. Then I opened the door for them." He closed his eyes. "They were after one man, but they killed everyone else there. They drugged and questioned him and killed him as they left." He sighed deeply. "I only hope the little girl got away." "Little girl?" Kitty asked. She could see how this was bothering him. He might not have killed those people, but he felt the guilt for them nonetheless. "Ja. After I opened the safe I saw a child under the desk. I sat near her, and... communicated with her, quietly. I didn't want to betray her presence, and see her die as well. But... they left a bomb in the building, Katzchen. I saw the explosion. Gott, I hope she wasn't still there." He sounded close to tears. She pulled him into her arms. "Hey, love. You did what you could. She wasn't scared of you?" "No... it's strange. She smiled when I played a joke, and even pet my tail." Kitty mock frowned, and grabbed his tail. "Okay, now I'm jealous... she pet you?" She stroked the end of his tail slowly with feather light touches. He groaned. "Nein... not like that. She was only 8 or so, Katzchen. She pet it like it was a cat or a dog, not... like you are. Mein tail is sensitive, but like a finger is sensitive. My reaction to the touch depends on the context." Kitty kept stroking him, hearing his breathing grow slightly ragged. "If someone were to tap my finger, fine. It is just a touch. But if someone, like you mein liebe, were to nibbled and lick my fingers... that would be sexy... erotic." "Like this?" Kitty brought the twitching tail up to her mouth, and put a gentle bite on the bottom corner of the spade, and continued to do so along the angle up to the tip. Kurt sat frozen, watching her, as she transferred her attentions to the other side and repeated the journey. When she nipped the end and then ran her tongue up the center, he reached out and grabbed her. One large hand slid from her waist upwards to cup the underside of her small breasts. The other curled around her and up to her neck, then rubbed firmly down her back to fondle her bottom. He alternated from kissing her hard to breathing heavily against her ear. "Ja, just like that, you little minx. So soft..." Kitty gasped at his caresses. Her bosom was something she was sensitive about. The other lady Hounds were years older than her, and she didn't think her chest compared with any of them. She touched the hand cupping her. "You... you like them? They're not very big..." "Of course I do. Katzchen, the thing about breasts is that they should fit the woman who has them. You are young and small still, and they fit you perfectly. But most importantly, they are yours. That makes them very special to me." He grinned and leaned forward, rubbing his face against the softness of her breasts. She giggled and pushed at him. When he leaned back, she bit her lip. "Okay, close your eyes and cover them with your hand." Her face was flushed red again. "Why?" He frowned a little and his tail curled around her ankle. "Just do it, buster... You'll like it." He complied with her wishes, sighing heavily. She took a breath, and unzipped the top of her suit, shrugging out of it as he had done. She reached behind her and undid the clasp of the military issue bra she hated. She made it into a little bundle and put it in the thigh pocket of her jumpsuit, and pulled her top back on, with the zipper down enough to show what little cleavage she had. Kurt was quivering, his sensitive ears obviously hearing the zipping and rustling noises she made. "Okay, you can look now.' He pulled his hand away and snapped his eyes open. His jaw dropped and he stared with a fierce desire that made her feel very female, and mature. "Danke, liebchen," he said with husky gruffness. "I like my present very much... may I open it?" His hands crossed part of the distance between them; making squeezing motions he didn't seem aware of. She hesitated, still embarrassed to show all of herself. "A little... sorry, Kurt." He smiled reassuringly. "A little is more than I've ever had liebchen. It will do." He pulled her close and put his nose against the soft flesh now revealed, breathing in deeply, drawing in her scent. He turned his face and planted hot kisses on the inside curves of her breasts, his hands coming up to rub them through her suit. She leaned back into the corner of the couch, drawing him with her in a reversal of their positions the month before. Her hands played in his dark hair, stroking the sides of his face and neck. He slowed his caresses, seeming to sense her mood. He opened her neckline a little more, and laid his face on the smooth skin at the top of her chest, his head tucked just under her chin. His hands lowered and encircled around her, holding her. She whispered then, "Let it out, Kurt. The pain, the fear, the anger; let it go." Warm wetness dripped on her skin, pooling into tracks and trickling down her body. The evidence of his trust and need stirred fierce emotions of protectiveness, making her understand how he'd felt before. She swallowed a lump, trying to find words to help him, and realizing they applied to her just as well. "Whether it is our hands that does the killings, love, or we are just facilitating others, the sins are not ours. We are forced to be here, forced to learn these horrible things, and forced to do them." Her hand dropped and traced the scar on his arm. "They give us no choice. They will hurt us or kill us if we don't do what they say, and to kill ourselves would be to add even more sin to our souls. So we just try to survive, beloved, and try to keep our secret selves whole. That is all we can do." He nodded his head slightly from where it lay against her, and wept until the tension drained away. He lay against her as she cradled him to her bosom in a posture that was at once motherly and intimate. He moved them, his tongue licking his tears from her skin. He started to chase after the tear tracks that had curled down around her ribs or between her breasts but she tugged on his hair. "Nuh-uh, guy. I get to keep those. I believe the phrase goes 'I'll brush it out later'. He chuckled weakly, and lifted his head, pressing his damp lips to hers. Their tongues slid against each other in a manner they were beginning to really enjoy. "Salty..." she said. He nipped her lower lip. "That's my line." He sat up besides her and stretched, baring his fangs in a snarl of pleasure / pain as his back arched backwards into a deep curve. She got up and stretched her self, drawing his eyes. She went to the record player and started stacking up records and starting the music. She bent down and untied her boots. "You get to go barefoot," she said as she pulled them off. "It's hard to feel sexy wearing combat boots." "You look sexy anytime, to me," he said. He lifted a furred foot for her inspection. "It's very hard to make shoes for these feet, liebchen." She grabbed his foot and looked at it closely. She tugged curiously at the rear toe, and it curled to squeeze her fingers. When she rubbed down the middle of his sole he hissed, his foot jerking in her grasp. "Ticklish?" She grinned. He flashed his fangs back at her in cheerful challenge. "Are you? Because if you tickle me, I'll return the favor, with interest." She let his foot go. "Very, actually. I've been told it's a surefire way to make me cry, when I laugh so hard I can't breathe anymore." "Then I won't tickle you, because it breaks my heart to see my Katzchen cry." His hand came up to cup her face as he smiled into her eyes. She leaned against him, and they listened to the music. The record ended, and a new one began. A tattoo of drums began playing and they both sat bolt upright when the Shield march started to play. He jumped to his feet and dove for the record player. He snatched off the stack on the spindle and handed them to her. Lifting the needle arm, he picked up the offending disk. He loaded the stack back on the spindle and started the music again. "'March Around The World: A Collection Of The World's Greatest Marches'," he read off the label, then snapped the record in half, dropping the halves on his spool-table. He stalked into the kitchen, returning with a hammer and a waste bin. Sitting, he smiled viciously, and took the hammer to half the record, reducing it to powdered fragments and shards of vinyl. She watched him pound out his frustrations with amusement. He turned and offered her the hammer with a courtly flair. "Would milady care to take a turn? I found it to be most satisfying." "Why, certainly, sir," she answered in kind, and giggled. She smashed the record hard, picturing every cruel, sadistic moment of her life since she'd been discovered. It was only a symbol, but a symbol of something they both loathed with a passion, and to make even a token stab back felt very good indeed. When her half was equally destroyed, he brushed the debris into the bin and returned it and the hammer to his kitchen. "Well," he said. "I guess I hadn't listened to all the records Joe gave me. That one didn't have a sleeve, and I only knew that I wasn't in the mood for marches. Sorry liebling." "S'okay. Who's Joe?" She cuddled close again, needing his nearness. "The boss in the garbage room. He's... nice to me. He's not a Shield agent." He gestured around the main room. "All this is his generosity. This was a bare room when I moved in." "I thought everyone on the Carrier was an agent." "Would an agent tend the furnaces, or deal with the trash? They feel they are above that sort of thing, so common workmen do the dirty work they can't get Hounds to do." "Yeah. I can't picture that creepy tattoo guy being an agent." He snorted. "Or the doctor. He seems more like the mad scientist type to me." She traced the ridges on his face that parted the fur and marked him as a Hound. His eyes closed and he shivered in remembered pain. "Did it hurt, love?" His lip curled. "Of course it did, but not nearly as much as the vasectomy." "You remember it? They knocked me out for the tubal." His yellows dulled, and he lifted them slowly. "Katzchen, I watched him do it. With no painkillers. I fainted halfway through, thank Gott." "Bastards. Sadistic sons of bitches. I'd love to see them rot in Hell." He raised an eyebrow. "That would mean that you were there to see it, and mein Engel would never be in such a place." "I don't know about that, love. Aren't we already in Hell?" "Maybe, but it is Heaven to me, when I am with you." He chuckled. "Our relationship is strange. It's moving so fast, Katzchen. This is only, what-- our third meeting? And yet..." "...And yet, it seems like we've known each other forever. I know. And I've let you get to second base already..." She gave a mock embarrassed look, smiling. "I'm such a scarlet woman." "Only when you blush, liebchen." He kissed her. "How about a dance?" "Okay, but you pick something. My last try didn't go so well." "I know just the one. Wait here, I'll be back." He went to the player and cleared off the stack. Searching through his collection, he found the one he was looking for, and opened space for them to dance. He reached for her hand as castanets began to clack behind him. "What is this?" she said, as a single flute joined in with a sweet slow melody. "Ravel's 'Bolero'. Very long. It starts slow and ends fast. Now, hush." It was a very long song, slowly building in intensity, while never varying from the steady, stately rhythm. Layer upon layer, one instrument built on the last, in a dozen variations of the basic melody line. They danced closely, experiencing the build up themselves, as they pressed closer or touched more intimately as the song went on. At the crescendo finale, when the whole orchestra was playing, he collapsed in a heap -- as the song itself seemed to do * -- drawing her down on top of him. He panted theatrically, feigning exhaustion. She looked down into his face, laughing. "You are a very silly man. Surely you aren't comfortable there on the floor." He looked up at her warmly, squeezing her hips. "I would happily lie on broken glass, if your softness was touching me, Kitty." She stared blankly back at him. His words were like hot knives, which healed instead of harmed. She scrambled to her feet, and fled to the kitchen where she got herself a glass of juice. He'd given an 'oof' as she'd gotten up, then silently followed her, sitting near. She didn't look at him, but she knew he was there. "Did I say something wrong, Katzchen? Because I meant those words... down to my very soul." She hung her head, shivering. "I know. It's just... no one has ever said anything so... sweet to me. No one has ever cared for me like it seems you do, not even my parents. And I'm scared. I'm scared of the intensity of your feelings, and the intensity of mine." She offered him the juice and he took a drink. She spoke softly. "It's frightening to feel that I can't live without you, when either one of us could be dead at any time. Part of me thinks we're making a mistake, getting so close, and the rest of me wants to be wrong." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Maybe the other Hounds have the right idea, taking and giving only casual comfort, with no strings attached." "They have less to lose, liebchen, but also less to gain. By never lowering their barriers to each other, they are always alone at their very core. I don't want to be alone." "Then why do we play this game?" Tension made her voice seem shrill in her ears. "Why should we care what fucking base we're on? We want each other, we... love each other. Let's just take the comfort we can give each other. Tonight. Now." Chapter Ten Back to Main Page Back to Fanfics Back to Series Index |