Sacrilege

by Morgiana

/Treasure./

Katze was sitting in an old armchair, looking at the dark-haired child sleeping in his bed. This was almost funny. Born as nothing, grown up as a scum, learned to bear pain and hunger and humiliation. Somehow, without even noticing it, become more important than anybody in this city. More important than pushy businessmen, than politicians, than syndicate's chiefs. For HIM, more important than ANYBODY.

And that was enough.

He'd escaped again. He had come here, asking, begging for help, although he knows perfectly well what Katze would do. What Katze always does.

Why did he come here anyway? Doesn't he have friends who would help him no-matter-what? Why does he always come here? He *knows* that tomorrow Katze will take him back to Iason. Take him *home*.

/Maybe that was it./

Of course, Blondie must already know where he is. But he trusts Katze enough to let Riki stay here till tomorrow, avoiding needless confusion in the middle of the night.

He is fast asleep now, spread on the bed like a cat, with hands above his head and his mouth open. Looks half like an angel, half like a demon. Elves' child. Sheets and pillow are on the floor now, he probably pushed them away accidentally, accustomed to the twice-as-wide bed of Iason.

Troublesome kid.

Katze could get up right now. He could call Iason today, not waiting for tomorrow morning, not having to think about a casual excuse why he hadn't done it earlier. He could get rid of the *problem* in his bed right now.

Katze wouldn't.

Katze could get up now and make a few calls to his friends. Contact his trusted "con men" who could make Riki free till the morning. /There's no code which can't be broken./

Katze wouldn't.

Katze could get up and walk towards this very special problem and sit next to him and wake him up gently. He could kiss him and make love to him like he did many times before; countless nights which hadn't had taken a place.

Katze would...

Stupid brat.

He's got everything. He's got power. He is the master of the most-important-man-in-this-city's heart. He could use it. He could take love given to him. But he refuses it in the name of stupid pride, makes himself a nervous wreck, unable to live neither with Iason or without him.

Pathetic.

Childish.

Stupid.

Katze knew he had fallen. He actually couldn't fall any lower; that's why he didn't care anymore. That's why he could make love to Riki, without regrets or thinking about the consequences. He could love him, like a little younger brother, and still keep him in that hell the boy lived in. And he could love Iason, like ancient people loved their cruel, beautiful, human-shaped gods. And betray him in the worst way Iason could ever imagine, still considering himself the Blondie's fateful servant. He knew he was scum. He's been told this all his life. That's why he didn't care.

He got up and walked toward the bed, sat on it and woke Riki up with a gentle kiss. The boy murmured something and then answered, putting his arms around Katze. And they made love, gently and slowly, and perfectly.

He knew he would be killed for it. He has already broke Iason's trust once and the second time would be the last one. Even though, he didn't consider himself a traitor.

He's been Iason's alter ego for years. He knew all of his secrets, he could guess his orders before Iason thought about them, he could even make him listen to his advice. He knew more about the Blondie than anybody else, Riki included. And Riki could never take his place. Because Riki could never *understand* Iason.

That was so unfair.

He could feel warmth in his arms, pure warmth of living creature; insolent and daring flame, living flame. Cause Riki was alive. He was one of very few people Katze knew, who actually LIVED. Katze envied.

It wasn't about desire. Katze has never desired Riki. Maybe only admired him like a man can admire a beautiful, exotic bird. /With cut wings./ It wasn't about love although he loved both of them. The one who is being betrayed by him right now and the one who's vainly begging him for help. Both of them. They were all his life.

He felt fingers dug into his arm, warmth of the body pressing to him, entering him, with one little soft moan. He looked into this dark eyes. They were so damn calm. Warm. Beautiful.

That was the only way of making love available for them. The body which lay on him right now belonged to Iason. Better for them if they didn't even dream about leaving marks on it.

It wasn't about lust. It was about warmth and trust and illusion of safety they could give to each other. It was about pain. And understanding.

For Riki was the only person in this world who understood why Katze, still feeling the burning pain in his scar every time he looked into the mirror, could serve in strict obedience to the man who marked him this way.

And Katze was the only one who understood why Riki, knowing he was loved and being able to have everything he asked for, kept running away from the man who could give him that.

And then, in some twisted, illogical way their love making was...

Worshiping Iason.

The End