Happy belated Birthday, J.-san.  I've put this part in prose (with originally drafted scenes that didn't make the final Manga cut).  Thank you for being such a wonderful cheerleader - giving me so much reasons to write even more. Hope this little piece will do for now. I promise I will bring Mr. Lynch back soon.

            There was a promise of a warm cup of coffee.  Perhaps an early breakfast.  There weren’t any more expectations besides company on that Christmas day.  At least that was what Katsuya had thought.             

            David’s apartment was warm, as soon as they stepped into it.  Katsuya went in first.  The light was snapped on behind him.  He stood a couple of steps into his friend’s place – very different from his own.  He looked to his right then to his left – studying the new environment with curiosity.  Katsuya was drawn back into his reality when David’s hands rested on his shoulders.

            “Let me take your coat,” David said. 

            Katsuya let the coat slip off his shoulders.  Vaguely, he heard his coat and scarf pool on the polished wood flooring.  He didn’t even recall much else when David wound his arms around him.  The warmth of another human being, wrapped around him - it was a sensation that he hadn’t realized he missed, until then.

            “I’m glad you are here,” David said.  His voice was uncharacteristically soft.  “You would have broken my heart if you turned me down again.”

            Katsuya leaned into David’s embrace.

            “I never turned you down,” Katsuya said, turning to look at David.  He gave David a kiss on the lower lip.  “You just didn’t ask me the right way.”

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            Peripherally, Katsuya looked at the trail of his clothing and shoes scattered on the floor – from the doorway, through the living room and onto the topside of the bed.  David’s gun belt with the 9mm was still strapped in its holster and half hung off the bedside chair.  Katsuya’s shirt was held together by the last two buttons. His pants was undone and barely hung onto his hips.  David’s uniform was still on.  Its crisp, starch-iron fabric felt harsh against Katsuya’s bare skin.  Katsuya couldn’t complain.  He had been the one who had asked David to keep his uniform on.

            Katsuya was pulled back into another kiss.  Katsuya gave himself into it, letting David devour him – as the cop writhed against him, hard.  Katsuya gripped a handful of David’s erection, tracing the shape of it through his pants.

            “Have you…been with a man?” David said into his mouth.

            The question sounded absurd and Katsuya nearly laughed. 

            “A little late asking me this now?” Katsuya said.

            “You know what I mean.”

            “Yes,” Katsuya finally said, taking a gentle bite against David’s lower lip.  “But this is the first time I really want it…”

            The confused grimace that came over David’s face then nearly spoiled the mood.  Katsuya took a hold of David’s tie, not allowing him to back away.

            “Don’t think about it,” Katsuya continued and leaned in for another kiss.  “All that matters is now.”

            It was that quick; with few words and David’s thoughts were forgotten.  He slipped his hands under Katsuya’s shirt – the skin there firm yet soft.  David was reminded briefly then, how much younger Katsuya was to him. 

            “Tell me what you want me to do,” David said, his breath hitched.  His body still pinned Katsuya against the wall and it already know what it wanted.  But he needed to hear it.

            Katsuya let go of the tie.  His hands slipped down, sliding along David’s silhouette down to the belt line – stopping short of the bulge that was straining against the uniform.  He leaned in, smiled and said it into David’s ear.    

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            He hadn’t any idea of the time or even where he was, when he made himself wake from the haze.  There’s an interesting sensation that was still resonating throughout his body.  Not quite pleasant but not exactly pain either.  He was sore, he realized.  And he wasn’t in his own bed.

            Katsuya’s eyes opened to a room that wasn’t his.  He had been lying on his stomach – naked and half buried under the sheets.  He blinked – finally registering everything at one moment when he saw the gun belt with its holster and clip casing emptied, slung over the chair.  He squinted until he could read the clock.

            3:07 AM.

            There was a note tucked under that clock.  Katsuya stared at it for awhile, until he could muster enough energy to push himself up and crawl over to fetch it.

            The note had a poorly drawn Santa’s head and a brief message.

            On call.  Help yourself to anything in the house.  Wait for me.  We haven’t done all of the gift exchanging yet. 

            Katsuya read the note a few more times before slipping it back onto the night stand.  In spite of aches; he felt good.  He left the comfortable warmth of the bed and walked toward the window.  Gingerly, he pulled up the venetian blind until he can look out of the snow-washed scenery before him.  The window looked out over a playground that was behind the apartment complex.  He could vaguely make out the shapes of the jungle gym and swings that were coated by snow.  It was still snowing.  And it was so quiet that he could hear the twinkling of the snow flakes.  In the distance, he could see colorful dots of the Christmas lights from the windows of other apartments.

            He could feel the smile on his face grow – pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

            Everything did change.  In a New York minute.

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            I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids,

            And when the night surround me 

            I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness

            -Pablo Neruda