There was a sharp knock on the door. He shouted for Gatti to enter, then dropped out of sight behind one of the chairs by the fireplace. Light stabbed into the room for an instant, branding his closed eyelids, then he heard the door quickly shut, bringing back the darkness. His darkness. Dilandau grinned and moved forward, his steps silent, his ears straining in vain to catch the clink of the slayer's armor. He arrived at the door in moments, unsurprised to find Gatti's jacket, boots and gloves neatly set on the floor nearby, the sheathed katana lying along the wall. Clever bastard. Dilandau felt a stab of both pleasure and annoyance: his second was not only smart but agile as well; he could be anywhere, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dilandau quickly moved along the wall for a few paces, then stopped and pressed his hands onto the wooden floor. Slight vibration; he closed his eyes and focused. Hai, Gatti was moving. The vibrations stopped. Ah. He slowly prowled forward, looking, listening. Now, was his second standing still or had he gotten onto something? There had been no creak of wood but that didn't mean anything. That damn gracefulness of his! He could climb anything without making a sound. That's how Gatti had gotten him the last time: he'd perched up on the desk against the wall, waiting until he'd spied him in the dim glow. Dilandau silently snarled and yanked the diadem off his forehead. Damn! He glared down at the metal circlet in his hand, the gem glowing in the dim light, and heard a soft laugh to his left. He dived towards the sound but encountered only air, almost plowing into a sitting chair but managing to twist away at the last second, hearing a slight creak of the wooden floor as his second lightly sprang away. He silently snarled again, instantly rolling to his feet and crouching down, weaving his way between the sitting chair and its companion as he gently set the diadem down. Then he stopped, keeping perfectly still. Gatti would be expecting him to stay on the move: the second had him pretty well figured out, or so he thought. Time for something different, Dilandau decided, smirking. He placed his hands on the floor again, closing his eyes and focusing all his concentration on listening. No vibration. but. there! Off to his left, towards the fireplace: the softest of breaths. He waited, his nerves jumping in the strain of keeping still, sweat starting a slow slide down the side of his face. Still no vibration. Good, Gatti, he thought. Stay still and wait for me to come by. He crept from between the chairs, his belly almost scraping the floor, his eyes trained on the spot where he knew his second waited. He heard the breath again! He nearly gasped in response, reining in the almost overwhelming impulse to jump forward, his muscles twitching in protest, but instead he became still again. Still as death. No vibration. Patient bastard. Dilandau advanced again, until he could practically feel the heat of Gatti's body, until he saw the faintest silhouette of his profile against the dying coals.

Suddenly that profile turned - towards him! Dilandau leapt forward with a scream, bowling over his second-in-command and tumbling them around and around until he ended up on top of him in front of the fireplace. Dilandau laughed wildly, triumph surging through his now pounding blood. Gatti growled underneath him, the dimly-lit features twisted in disappointment. Dilandau began to shake, his body finally reacting to the pent-up tension, and he could feel Gatti shaking as well. He bent down and kissed him fiercely, his mind suddenly, completely focused upon him. The taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin! He felt Gatti's fingers in his hair, running down his back; he drew his own hand down his second's side, feeling the lean muscles underneath the rough fabric of his undershirt.

Gatti suddenly flinched. Dilandau pulled his mouth away from his and smirked, brushing his hand along his side again and feeling the muscles twitch.

"What's this?" he asked, straightening and pulling up his undershirt. There was a large bruise along the second's side, dark against the dimly- lit skin. "Well, well, well," he said. "This isn't one of mine. Who got past your guard?" Gatti muttered something, his face turned away from him and his fingers stilled, resting on the small of his back. Dilandau's smile grew. "Who did this?" he asked again, pushing upon the bruise and grinning when his second gave a soft grunt of pain.

"Miguel." He laughed in surprise and Gatti stiffened underneath him.

"Miguel?" Dilandau exclaimed, his fingers lightly stroking the darkened skin. "Well, he has gotten quicker. Or else you're just getting slower." Gatti snarled and glared up at him.

"I had beaten him!" the second growled. "But he wouldn't accept it and came at me from behind, after I'd turned away from him." Dilandau laughed again, bringing his hand up and caressing Gatti's cheek, smirking as his second scowled and turned his face away from his touch.

"Well, that was quite innovative of him, ne?" he said pleasantly, relishing Gatti's sudden, reactive start. "Perhaps it's time for a new second-in- command." Gatti jerked his head back to stare up at him.

"What?" he asked, paling. Dilandau slid his fingers into the cinnamon hair, twisting the strands in his grip as he bent down, staring into his eyes.

"A new second-in-command," he said softly. "I mean, I can't really keep you if you're getting beaten by one of the other Slayers, ne?" Gatti flushed, the dark blue eyes blackening, and Dilandau felt his blood go into a slow pound. At last, something new to get him with! Could this night get any better? Gatti remained still underneath him for a couple seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"As you wish, my lord," he said. Dilandau raised his eyebrows.

"Oh?" he asked.

"Hai. But you should check out Miguel's bruises first. Did you think I would let him get away with it?" Dilandau stared at him for a few moments, then smirked. Clever bastard, he thought unwillingly as he loosened his hold in his hair. He closed the space between their mouths and slid his tongue along his, his excitement from baiting him slipping seamlessly into desire, his pulse quickening in response. He felt Gatti groan softly, felt his hands sliding around his waist to start unfastening his pants. Looked like the night could get better, after all.

THE END