Dee's POV

God, I need a cigarette.

My craving for nicotine wakes me from a deep sleep and I automatically check the clock, bleary-eyed, as I grope for the pack on the nightstand. 2:37 a.m. Jesus, it's the middle of the night. If I haven't had my quota for the day by the time I fall into bed, this sometimes happens - and it's not worth trying to resist, it'll just keep me awake. I groan inwardly as I drag myself from the warm nest of covers, pull on a crumpled flannel shirt over my t-shirt and sweatpants, and head for the kitchen to feed my addiction.

Twenty minutes later, craving satisfied, I crawl back into bed being careful not to wake the sleeping form huddled under the blankets.

Ryo.

I shed the flannel shirt and lay down next to him. Pulling the comforter up over us both, I wonder for the millionth time how I ever got so lucky. How did I manage to entice this startlingly beautiful creature to even give me the time of day never mind share my bed? Delicate-looking yet strong, soft-spoken yet violent when provoked, innocent and naive yet sensual and passionate, he's more than I ever could have hoped for. Just being so close to him makes me want to lose my mind.

The ever-present lights of the city filter through grime-covered windows, filling the room with a low-level glow. I prop myself up on my elbow, and watch Ryo as he sleeps, his dark honey-blonde hair spread on the pillow and falling in a casual tangle on his forehead. I can't resist touching him any longer, and find myself reaching to gingerly brush the strands back from his face, revealing him to me more clearly in the dim light.

Running my thumb lightly over the sharp planes of his cheek and jaw, now covered with the beginnings of fine red-gold stubble, I am reminded how it abrades my lips and neck and chest when we do more than just kiss. My hand trembles on his cheek as a wave of desire washes over me, the memory of earlier this evening still vivid in my mind. Ryo caressing me willingly, letting me know with his mouth and hands that he's almost ready, that he wants me as much as I want him.

Everything about him intoxicates me.

I even find myself marveling at the length of his dark lashes, which lay like soot against his pale skin. Ryo's eyes may betray his Japanese heritage when he's awake, but when he's sleeping, his bone structure and blonde hair speak of Celtic ancestry or fey blood. He's so handsome he reminds me of some prince of the Seelie Court, who's somehow crossed into our realm.

Heh - I guess Ryo's right - I do read too much science fiction and fantasy.

I'm in love with him, does he realize that? Jeez, I've been telling him so for months now, so I hope so. I still don't know if Ryo believes me or not, but recently I have noticed him thawing out a little. He's been touching me more, for one thing. When we're together now, he drives me wild with his hesitant caresses, hell, he's even kissing me back. At work he's loosening up, too. He sometimes rests his hand on my arm when he speaks to me now, or brushes his fingers across my knuckles as we pass each other; casual contact he's never allowed himself before. There have been times lately that I've caught him considering me with one of those soft, secretive smiles of his plastered on his face - like he's really hungry and I'm the main course. And I can't speak - can hardly breathe, when his gaze meets mine, dark eyes full of affection and longing. I have to have faith that he's finally falling for me, as well.

Before Ryo, I'd never been in love. Doesn't matter, though - I still had my heart broken at fifteen.

Growing up in an orphanage, you learn quickly not to get too attached to anyone. Your best friend today could be gone tomorrow and the fact that he's gone to live with some family who'll love him, just brings up too many conflicting emotions to sort out. You love and miss him - but you're jealous and hate him for getting what you want so badly you can taste it.

The only way to stay sane is to stop wanting, to stop trusting, to stop putting your faith in other people. You develop a tough shell, and your friendships are all shallow and surface so you can protect your heart. The only thing that kept me from becoming completely cold-blooded was Mother.

Unlike everyone else in my life, Penguin was safe to love. She was a constant, shining, black-habit-clad beacon throughout my childhood, but she was spread too thin. As much as all of us kids loved her, there were just too many of us. She could only dole out little bits of affection and attention at a time. We were all so desperate though, that we'd eagerly take any crumbs she could offer and cherish them.

I guess I was more fortunate than some, because I also had Jess Latener looking out for me. He was the cop who found me as a baby, abandoned in an alley - so I guess he felt a sense of duty, or whatever. I was just glad he was around. He kicked my ass on more than one occasion when I got out of line. My pastimes included vandalism and shoplifting, and when I got a little older, pick-pocketing and even grand theft auto. Yeah, I was a punk but Jess always cleaned up my messes.

I don't know what strings he pulled to keep me out of trouble, but he did. Then he'd yell at me, smack me around a little, give me a couple of bucks, and tell me to get lost. I always looked forward to his visits, even though they were usually to ream me a new one. Shit, they were the highlight of my week. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I got in trouble on purpose just to get his attention.

Probably.

Then there was my gang. Tommy was another lifer at the orphanage. We kinda hated each other when we were younger, but developed an uneasy truce later on, when we realized that neither one of us was going anywhere. From there it was a short leap to ally. We got ourselves into and out of more scrapes than I care to remember. Arnon and Barry were neighborhood kids and here's where I made my mistake; I figured people from the surrounding neighborhoods were gonna stick around. I let my guard down with these guys like I really hadn't done before.

So I had my own little family unit, carefully hand-picked for stability and safety. Penguin and Jess were like mom and dad; and Arnon, Tommy, and Barry were my siblings. I'd always figured it wasn't safe to love too many people, Mother being the exception, but somehow these other people had wormed their way into my affections as well. The funny thing is that I didn't even realize how much they meant to me - until Arnon, and then Jess, were brutally murdered.

Arnon's death was bad enough - my brother, my friend - and then dealing with the lies the papers printed about him.

But losing Jess Latener was one of the most devastating things that ever happened to me. He may have turned out to be a half-assed cop, but he was the closest thing to a father I was ever going to get. I felt betrayed by love - by my own heart. I'd been lied to, and I'd swallowed it hook, line, and sinker, for the sake of surrounding myself with a "family." The truth as I saw it, was that it wasn't safe to love anyone - and this realization hurt worse than my grief.

Penguin had always told me to follow my heart, but now I couldn't - my heart and I weren't on speaking terms anymore.

I did the only thing I knew how to do - I shut down. All that was left was my cold resolve to become a police officer like Jess, but a better one - someone who could make a difference against low-life scum like the ones who had killed him. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but I pulled away from Tommy and Barry, and even Mother. Of course they noticed, but they knew I missed Jess and we were all dealing with our grief over Arnon. I guess they thought that someday I'd loosen up again. I eventually let Penguin back in - heck, you can't stay alienated from your "mother" forever, right? But with Tommy and Barry, things were never quite the same again.

To all external appearances I was the same outgoing person I'd always been, but now it was a hard, brittle shell. The funny thing was, in spite of my short fuse and bad-ass reputation, I was liked by a lot of people. I could still pass for human, but now my eyes were colder - harder. I was a little harsher, a little less forgiving. It became even easier to take up with people and then walk away - that's where Barry and Tommy kinda fell through the cracks. And that little violent streak I call my temper started to get the better of me more often.

In fact, my temper was what finally got me kicked out of high school at the beginning of senior year.

The day the little yellow card was posted by the office, reminding people of the memorial service for Arnon the following week, was the day of my undoing. The second anniversary of his and Jess's passing was fast approaching, and I was feeling raw from the annual surge of suppressed emotions.

It was between classes, and I was in a little-used bathroom near the gym. I had washed my hands, and was just running my fingers through my unruly hair, when in swaggered the captain of the football team and two of his henchmen. I acted like I hadn't seen them, but they were kinda hard to ignore, with their obnoxious letterman jackets and loud horseplay.

I caught one of the goon's reflections out of the corner of my eye just in time to see his lip curl with disgust. He turned to his cronies, and in a high falsetto voice began running me down. I was a "punk" and a "low-life" and a "faggot."

I grabbed my backpack from the floor under the sink, grinned right at them, and started to head out. They'd been the bane of my existence for the past three years, giving me shit every chance they got. I guess they just didn't like my looks. I wasn't afraid of them or anything - hell, I'd beaten up half the football team at one time or another, and probably fucked the other half. I actually didn't give a shit what they called me, although most people wouldn't have had the nerve to say it to my face. My mean streak was well-known, but I was willing to let it go - they weren't worth my time.

What stopped me dead in my tracks with my hand on the door, was when they began tearing Arnon apart. They'd seen the announcement, and they remembered him. Wasn't he that little drug-addict faggot friend of mine, who got what was coming to him a couple of years ago? Laughing and jeering, they went on to conjecture in guttural street slang what Arnon must have done to earn his dope.

The backpack slid off my shoulder and hit the floor with a thud as I turned to face them, a murderous glint in my eye. Their loud guffaws were cut short when I launched myself at the captain, slamming him up against the tiled wall. His eyes went wide in surprise and panic as I pressed my arm across his throat, cutting off his air.

I didn't care what they said about me, but I wasn't going to stand by and let them talk trash about someone I'd loved.

I landed two good punches to the football hero's gut and had the satisfaction of hearing his "oof' of pain, before Thing One and Thing Two dragged me off him. Then they held me captive between them while he waded in and beat me bloody. Some big fucking hero he was, needing two big burly thugs to hold me, just so he could get in a couple of shots. I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting out of it, either.

They left me in a heap on the men's room floor, giving me some parting kicks in the 'nads on the way out. Then they went straight down to the office and reported me. I was still writhing in pain when the principal came to get me.

The next thing I knew, I was out on my ear - expelled for fighting - and there was nothing Penguin could do or say to make them take me back. I was obviously an unbeliever, since I'd dared to raise my hand to the fucking 'football god,' so the only course of action was excommunication.

It was so fucking unfair. All I was doing was defending the memory of a friend from a bunch of libelous pricks, and I'm the one who got kicked out.

It still makes me angry, even to this day.

I realize that I'm clenching Ryo's pajama sleeve in my trembling fist. I take a deep, shuddering breath then release it, gently stroking the hopelessly crumpled cotton, hoping that I haven't disturbed his slumber.

I haven't - he's still sleeping peacefully.

Mother kept a close eye on me for the rest of senior year, making sure I stayed out of trouble. She needn't have worried - I had a goal. I'd had goals in the past, but they usually involved not getting caught for something I'd done. For the first time in my life I had a worthy one.

I wasn't going to let the bastards keep me down.

If I was gonna become a cop, I knew the first step was to finish high school. The only way of doing that now was by getting my GED, so I buckled down and spent a couple of hours a day studying. It was going to be a long, hard journey to the police academy for an inner-city punk like me anyway, and if I didn't have that damn piece of paper, the trip would be over before it started.

I tested in February. It seemed almost too easy, and I spent the better part of the next three months wondering if I'd done really well or if I'd royally fucked up. I couldn't believe it when my GED certificate finally arrived in the mail two days before my "classmates" graduated. I was so ecstatic, that I danced Penguin around in her office.

My excitement was short-lived though, as another pressing consideration made itself apparent.

Money.

I had worked part-time at various dead-end jobs, socking every cent away for my education. Even with all that ass-busting, though, my bank account was still pitiful. I knew I could apply for financial aid, and most likely get it, but I'd still have additional expenses and the meager funds I'd managed to accumulate wouldn't even begin to cover that.

Imagine my surprise when Mother offered to help me out. She'd originally had misgivings when I'd talked to her about my career choice, but watching me work so hard for my high school equivalency had convinced her of my sincerity. Cutting off my vehement protests, she insisted on taking care of everything.

I'll always be more grateful to her than I can ever hope to express.

I'm still absentmindedly stroking the narrow satin band on the cuff of Ryo's sleeve, so I can feel him getting ready to shift. I pull my hand back as Ryo turns onto his side, facing me, his unbuttoned pajama top falling open to reveal his lean, muscular chest.

Reacting instinctively to the seductive sight before me, I reach out and skim my fingers along his collarbone and down, lightly brushing one of his dusky pink nipples. Another caress and it hardens under my roughened fingertips, eliciting a low throaty moan from my sleeping companion. You like that, don't you, Ryo? My breath hitches as I recollect his responsiveness when I roll my tongue around that same nipple, biting and sucking until his back arches in wanton abandon. I can't help but smirk, considering how uncomfortable he was with my attention to that part of his anatomy such a short time ago. He stirs at my touch and I draw back with a sigh. I don't want to wake him - I'll have to be content with just looking, for now.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I wouldn't have cared if I'd woken up a sleeping bedmate with my desires when all that mattered was getting off.

Official sexual experimentation started for me when I was 16. Oh, I'd been groped - and more - at the orphanage since much earlier than that. From the time I was eleven to about thirteen, I was anyone's bitch until I got really good at fighting back - then they left me alone. It's the kind of stuff you try to not to think about, but the fact is that the older kids preyed on the younger ones. That's just what happens when you have a bunch of boys of all ages sleeping in the same room. However, being held down and fondled against your will, when you're still not quite sure what sex is, isn't quite the same as actively pursuing - and winning - the object of your desire, once you've figured it all out.

I started with girls, of course, but soon discovered that rock-hard abs and a rock-hard dick did it for me as easily as warm, soft breasts and pussy. I've always enjoyed it both ways. Unfortunately that kind of news is hard to keep out of the papers, and by the end of sophomore year, I'd gained a reputation.

It's kinda unfair, if you think about it. If I'd have been a girl, I'd have been labeled a slut. Instead, I was considered slightly dangerous, kinda cool, and a fag. That really aggravated me. Even though I liked girls, too, sleeping with guys made me a fag in the eyes of the school population. 'Bisexual' didn't seem to be in their vocabulary. It just didn't seem to be a concept that they could figure out. Sure, I got my share of weird looks and whispered comments, but my confrontational personality and volatile temperament kept most people from making a big deal about my sexual orientation.

The ironic thing is that despite the whispers and stares, I didn't have any trouble securing partners. Girls, and yeah, guys - on the sly, of course - sought me out. In fact, I was the "first" for more than a few of my male classmates, embarrassed yet eager to try out for the other team.

I was happy to oblige.

It was easy; for me it was all about plumbing and hydraulics - there was very little emotion involved. I liked them fine, and loved the sex, but I never let anyone get under my skin. That was too dangerous. The ones who had influenced my life were gone now, but they had fucked with me in more ways than I could even begin to count.

I carried that attitude with me beyond my school days and into the real world. I'm a good-looking, fun-loving guy, and it's always been easy for me to meet people. Hell, I never lacked for companionship, whether friend or lover. However, the romantic attachments were always short-lived, never progressing much beyond the first couple of dates. It was usually me who broke things off; I was just looking for some fun - liked to keep things nice and simple.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

Sex was a means to an end for me. It gave me the illusion of closeness, without risking actual intimacy. The truth was that I craved love just like anyone else; it was just buried so deep I couldn't see it. I was lonely, but the minute anyone threatened to get too close, I cut them loose. Sometimes I felt kinda bad about using people the way I did, but I was so hollow inside I really had nothing to offer anyone anyway. I think I pushed people away because I felt that they deserved something better. And even though I ended up feeling even emptier afterward, I was always on the lookout for the next connection, the next casual fuck. That meant a constant stream of people parading in and out of my life. I must have looked like I was having a hell of a time. It was actually a miserable, solitary existence.

That all changed when Ryo entered the picture.

Ryo turns again, his back to me. I slide a little closer and cautiously place my hand on his hip. He shifts a bit and moves his arm, and I expect to be pushed away. Instead, he takes my hand and slides it around front and up to his stomach, resting his arm on top of mine. He's drawn me even closer, and now we're sharing a pillow, my face buried in his hair. I inhale deeply, drowning in Ryo's soft, musky scent. He smells so good I just want to eat him up. I burrow closer, sighing contentedly.

I knew Ryo was gay the day he first walked into the Chief's office. I was immediately attracted to him - in fact it's a wonder I didn't start drooling. He was a friggin' wet dream, the unconsciously graceful way he moved his slender yet masculine body, his blonde good looks and dark eyes - everything about him. I looked him up and down, and let him know with my eyes and my smile that I liked what I saw. He blushed at my obvious invitation, but although he was a bit flustered, I could tell that he was pleased by the attention.

The Chief made us partners right away. Heh, my lucky day. I might have complained - didn't want to seem too eager - but I certainly didn't mind. I've always loved the hunt, and I was already trying to figure out how and when to make my move. I imagined it would be a simple matter to get him into bed - he looked like another easy conquest.

So, what set him apart from all the others?

Well, it started with his eyes. When I first looked into his deep, dark, beautiful Asian eyes, I was startled to see the depth of his loneliness and pain. I immediately knew it for what it was, since I saw the same emotions staring back at me every time I looked in the mirror. He had the look of someone who has resigned themselves to never having what they want with all their heart - someone they can love.

I felt something resonate between us, the recognition of finding a kindred spirit. Dare I say - soul mate? I sensed this connection with Ryo; it was immediate and undeniable - just being with him made me want to be a better man. I wondered if he was that one special person in this godforsaken world who might possibly understand me. I saw his eyes widen as he felt it too before he buried it deep and covered it with a bland expression and dazed smile.

Ah well, I couldn't deny it, anyway.

He was scared and that saddened me. Suddenly I felt not only attraction, but a raw tenderness as well, and a desire to take care of him, something I had rarely experienced and certainly didn't trust. Yet even as I tried to push these unfamiliar feelings away, I felt a glimmer of hope - maybe I wouldn't have to go through life alone after all.

At that moment I knew that I would do just about anything to erase the unfulfilled yearning in his eyes, and in doing so, maybe from my own as well.

Since then, he's driven me to the brink of insanity - wanting me, then pushing me away, trusting me and then not. At one point, I had even pretty much called it quits, before circumstances brought us back together even stronger than before. It's been one hell of a rollercoaster ride.

The one constant has been Ryo, himself - and just by being his own sweet yet strong self, he's broken down all of my defenses. When I've been sad he's comforted me, happy, he's shared the joke. He's stared down my explosive temper on more than one occasion. In fact, when I'm angry, he's about the only one who can get through to me and make me see reason. He must have decided early on in our relationship I was worth all the bullshit, because he's been by my side, without fail, since the beginning. He's put up with petulance, stubbornness, arrogance, irascibility, and downright surliness - just a few of my more delightful qualities - and miracle of miracles, he's stuck around. That goes a long way in my book - maybe he does love me, after all.

Let's not forget the countless times I've jumped him, kissed him, tackled him, and attempted to seduce him. He's so incredibly sexy, how could I not want to get close to him? I learned early on though, that I'd need to take my time with him. I never push him too far or too fast, I don't want to risk scaring him off - just enough to elicit a response. And what a response! Every time I've gotten past Ryo's resistance he's surprised me with his ardor. We've been inching our way toward this night - and the nights I that hope are coming soon, for quite a while now.

Looking back, I'm glad he's kept me at bay as long as he has, even though it's been frustrating sometimes. It's given me the time I've needed; to let my guard down and trust my emotions, not fear them; to learn to care about another person again. It's given me the opportunity to really get to know Ryo, and to appreciate what he has to offer: more than just his body - something infinitely more valuable: his heart and soul. I know myself too well. Soul mate or not, if he'd given in to me too soon, he never would have stood a chance. I would have fallen right back into my old pattern, and just fucked him then walked away like I'd done with everyone else. I'm so glad that didn't happen - I would have missed out on the best thing that's ever come into my life.

He's helped me realize that it is safe to love, after all.

I suddenly sense that Ryo's awake. He must have been able to feel my restlessness. Stirring slightly, he looks at me over his shoulder, sleepily. "Dee?" he asks quietly, his voice full of concern, "Are you alright?" His hand reaches up and briefly tangles in my tousled hair.

"Yeah, Baby," I murmur reassuringly, "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"You sure?'

"Yeah."

Ryo sighs deeply, then pulls my arm around him more tightly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as he rests our intertwined fingers against his chest. A few minutes later, I feel his fingers relax, and hear his breathing even out as he succumbs to sleep once again. I rest my cheek on his shoulder for a moment, content to just hold him. I focus on his slow, rhythmic breaths and allow them to lull me to sleep as well.

Settling back on the pillow, arms locked around Ryo, I can feel my eyelids begin to droop. My last conscious thought is a prayer to whatever deities are listening, thanking them for everything that's happened to me in my life, good and bad. If I could go back and change things, I wouldn;t - not the bad decisions, not the loss of Jess and Arnon, not the years of loneliness, nothing. It all stays.

Because if anything had happened differently, I wouldn't be where I am right now: snuggled in a warm bed, with my arms wrapped around the man I love.

I feel like I'm finally home.

End.