It's in His Kiss - Part Four

Humming pleasantly to herself, Kodachi Kuno, clad in frilly apron, filled an oversized pot with water and hefted it onto the stove to boil. She had decided that a nice stew would go well with the pig she was going to stuff and roast for dinner that night, along with a few arsenic sprinkled pastries for desert. Yes, Tatchi would like that. Chuckling, she gathered the fresh vegetables she wanted from the refrigerator and spread them out on the counter for chopping.

The soon-to-be-dinner pig was currently sprawled on a wooden cutting board, still out cold from his earlier erotic shock. Kodachi took a moment to pat his little head fondly, then pulled a rather large cleaver out of the close-at-hand knife block. Its keen edge gleamed cunningly in the sun coming through the kitchen window, as if so sharp that it cut the light in half. She tested its edge, then lifted it dramatically, her eyes filled with a slightly maniacal glimmer, and a merry laugh escaped her throat as she plunged the blade downwards, driving it deeply into one of the potatoes destined for the stew. Having happily made the first cut, she proceeded to chop, the knife blade flashing with expert swiftness.

"A cup of tea - ee, a cookie, and you - ooo!" Chopping vegetables was work just made for singing along with.

The slightly off-key trill managed to penetrate P-Chan's addled senses. He stirred, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly, wondering where the heck he was this time. He managed to register the fact hat he was in a large brightly lit and obviously well-tended kitchen, but nothing beyond that seemed familiar. However, there was something about finding himself in a strange kitchen when in pig form that tweaked at his most fundamental porcine fears.

With a squeak, P-Chan scrambled to his hooves, and bwee'd a frantic question directed at the young woman beside him.

Kodachi turned to smile at him, holding the knife in front of her. "Why hello little piglet!" she smiled in a strangely pleasant manner that managed to come off as rather frightening.

The wee pig’s eyes widened. Encountering Kodachi Kuno was bad enough, as P-Chan’s more human persona was personally convinced that the gymnast was a certified nut, but seeing the knife in her hand almost caused him to pass out again. Not good! Not good at all! Knife plus kitchen undoubtedly equaled a very short future for a certain little black piglet. After a brief moment of paralysis, P-Chan squealed and turned in a flash, intending to leap from the counter and scurry away as fast as his insignificant legs could carry him.

He was only just barely starting the forward motion when something slammed hard into the wood of the cutting board and he was jerked off his feet by the neck . Bewildered, he looked up to find Kodachi leaning over him, still holding onto the handle of the cleaver, which she had driven through his bandanna and into the cutting board. He was pinned. Shivering, he cringed away from her smiling face. Normally, P-Chan did his best not to show fear like this, but there really was only so much terror that a pig could handle.

"Ah - ah -ah!" Kodachi admonished, waggling a finger at him. "Musn't run away now, my plump little darling! I haven't stuffed you yet." She patted his little rear patronizingly.

P-Chan's eyes got even wider, actually threatening to extend beyond the physical boundaries of his head. In a panic, he twisted his head and neck until he could get back to his feet, and then proceeded to yank and tug against his bandanna, hoping to either slip out of it or tear it so that he could escape. Unfortunately, there was not enough slack around his neck to allow his head through. Fluttering manically, his feet little whirling dots, P-Chan squealed and oinked as loud as he could.

"Calm down dear," Kodachi laughed as she chose another knife from the block. "I'll get to you as soon as I finish these veggies. o~ohohoho!"

The doomed pig’s struggles continued while she chopped and sang bright little bits of suitable cooking tunes. Potatoes, carrots, parsnips and onions were all reduced to small bits with breathtaking speed, and once she had a good pile of vegetables, Kodachi took them over and added them to the water which was now boiling in the stew pot on the stove.

"Now, what can I add to this to make it truly delectable?" the dark haired beauty mused to herself, looking over a rather large rack of jars and spices that hung close to the stove. "Oh! This would add a nice flavor." She chose a small bottle and shook some of its contents into her hand. She let the spiny-looking flower petals drift down into the stew. "And brother dear hasn’t quite built up an immunity to this one yet."

P-Chan stopped his fight against the pinning knife for a moment, as these words penetrated his mind. Dazed, he watched as she selected another jar and sprinkled a strangely orangish powder into her creation.

"A little paralysis powder, though that hardly seems to effect him anymore," Kodachi continued her commentary, pouting a bit. She opened one last jar and removed what looked to be a blue mushroom from within. She crumbled it in her hand and let the pieces plunk into the stew. "And just because I love him so, a mild hallucinogenic, so that he’ll enjoy himself. How does that sound, my little piggy darling?"

P-Chan was no great chef, but he was reasonably certain that those ingredients were not normally included with a spice rack. Even as desperate as his own situation was, P-Chan did not envy Kuno having to partake of that obviously toxic stuff in the least. When he thought about it, he realized that this certainly went a long way in explaining why the Blue Thunder was the way he was.

As soon as her concoction was merrily boiling, Kodachi put it on a back burner to simmer, then turned toward P-Chan with an expectant smile and delighted laugh. "All right, dear, it’s yooour turn! I think an elderberry and nightshade stuffing would go quite well with you."

She chose a new knife, a long thin filleting knife, with a deadly gleaming blade. Holding it in front of her, smiling beautifully, she advanced on the pinned piglet. Nearly strangling him by rolling him onto his back, she laid an elegant hand on his stomach that was probably meant to calm and still. Unfortunately, it had exactly the opposite effect on P-Chan. Squealing for all he was worth, the black piglet thrashed and kicked, tears of panic flying from his eyes as he tried in desperation to get away.

"Hold still, this will only hurt for a moment," Kodachi assured him in a falsely soothing tone. She pressed the tip of the blade against his little throat, which immediately quelled his struggles. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and went rigid, waiting for the fatal cut.

As she braced herself to slide the knife into the pig’s throat, Kodachi felt herself being unexpectedly embraced from behind, and a strong arm encircled her slim waist. The hand in which she held the knife was grasped by another, slender fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her away from her murderous task. Kodachi froze in place, hardly daring to believe, but she recognized that hand! And she knew the warm musky scent of the man who was now standing behind her.

He leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear lightly. "You don’t really want to do that, Dachi," Ranma whispered purringly.

Her heart skipped several rather important beats. Overcoming her initial shock, she turned swiftly, inwardly marveling at how he managed to keep his hold on her waist. Her senses had not deceived her! Ranma Saotome was embracing her, a rather mischievous smile planted firmly on his handsome rounded face. For some reason he was wet, his clothes damp and hair dripping, but she didn’t care about that. He could have been dressed in lingerie for all she cared. It only mattered that he was here! Holding her! Smiling at her!

"Ranma Darling!!" she squealed, glomping onto him after a brief second’s stunned hesitation. It was a test as much as an opportunity to feel him up. Normally, her more forward advances had the effect of driving him off, but this time he just laughed, the dark sapphires in his eyes sparkling. Kodachi was thrilled. Could it be that at long last her beloved Ranma had come to his senses, ditched the stupid Tendo girl and come to her of his own free will? Without any conniving or nefarious schemes? It didn’t seem possible, but here he was!

"Have you finally come to your faithful Kodachi, my husband?" she asked brightly, testing him again. Spouting phrases like that would usually send him running for the hills.

Ranma stared at her for a moment, a look of clear anticipation on his face. Then he nodded. "Sure," he replied lightly.

His next action took the gymnast completely by surprise. A roguish grin playing on his mouth, Ranma slid his hand up her back to properly support her, tipped her backwards and leaned down to kiss her with a gallant flourish that was the stuff of Kodachi Kuno’s dreams. As his lips met hers, the real world faded, to be replaced by a hazy pastel world of bubbles, sparkles and dramatic sweeping music. The kimono Kodachi wore shimmered and manifested itself as a huge fancy Civil War period dress, a dark green in color with about four tons of ruffles and several miles worth of lace trimming it. Ranma’s damp red Chinese-style shirt rearranged itself in a configuration that passingly resembled a darkly colored Union uniform, the ties becoming bright brass buttons.

As the Black Rose immersed herself into this lovely vaseline-smeared fantasy, Ranma deepened the kiss, fitting himself into her warm eager mouth with a soft sigh of pleasure. She slipped her arms up around his neck and pressed him in closer, which he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his kiss took on a greater intensity, taking her breath away with the heat he prompted within her.

As this was going on, Ranma blindly reached up with his free hand and felt around on the counter for the pinned P-Chan, who was now watching the spectacle with quite a sizable sweatdrop on his head. Skillfully, Ranma nabbed the pig by the bandanna, tore him off of the knife and tossed him towards the shimmering pot of stew.

With a bweeeeeee! P-Chan flew through the air, little legs kicking. Incredibly, he seemed to hover above the pot for a brief moment, a look of terror on his face, before he dropped into the warm soup with an amusing *splick* sound.

The noises broke into Kodachi’s fantasy and she broke the kiss, looking up. "What was that?" she asked suspiciously, attempting to straighten herself out of the dramatic position Ranma was holding her in.

"What was what?" Ranma asked innocently and promptly planted another kiss on her, this time sweeping her up into his arms. She quickly forgot whatever it was she’d been distracted by, and melted once more into her Gone With the Wind visions. Her handsome soldier carried her out of the kitchen, pecking little loving kisses all around her mouth and chin.

Behind him, Ranma was aware of the sounds of Ryoga knocking the pot of stew to the floor in his attempts to get out of the undoubtedly scalding liquid. He certainly hoped that the Lost Boy’s rather surprising language didn’t snap Kodachi out of her fantasy again. Managing to smirk, even around the kisses he was still showering Kodachi with, Ranma carried the gymnast into the livingroom.

Spotting a couch, he took note of the dreamy expression on the girl’s face, and carried her over. He lowered her carefully into the cushions, treating her as if she were a rare and wondrous crystal treasure. Eyes sparkling, he knelt over her in that classic ‘about to violate’ position.

"Dachi," he said in a low soft tone. "Black Rose . . . "

Kodachi looked up at him, blinking her eyes heavily, well caught up in her fantasy. Oh yes, oh yes! Ranma was a dashing and powerful soldier, one of the sworn enemy, obviously intent on spoiling and deflowering the helpless and not altogether unwilling refined Lady of the manor. Putting a weak hand to her forehead, she drew in a long fluttering breath. "Yes, my Ranma Darling?"

"Wait here a moment, okay?" he grinned. Lovingly gifting her with another passionate kiss, he was pleased and satisfied to see her eyes close in contented delirium. Taking advantage of the situation, he dashed back to the kitchen, yanking Ryoga’s clothes out of hammerspace as he did.

The stew was strewn all over the kitchen floor and the Lost Boy was currently in quite a state of agitation, washing vegetables and seasoning out of his hair with fresh warm water from the sink. His bare skin was pink from the heat of the boiling soup.

"You okay?" Ranma asked, tossing the young man his clothes, though he did take a moment to privately appreciate the nice view Ryoga was giving him as the young man bent over the sink.

"No, I am NOT okay! That nutcase was going to roast me!" Ryoga snarled, his fangs showing plainly as he straightened and snatched his clothes out of the air. He began to yank them on, his fury exceptionally evident. Unexpectedly, he wavered for a moment, dizziness overcoming him, and fell over as he tried to get a leg into his pants.

Ranma blinked in surprise and came over to help Ryoga straighten himself. "Calm down, buddy. Let’s just get you dressed and we’ll get out of here," he picked up Ryoga’s shirt and leaned forward to slip it over his friend’s head.

Ryoga grabbed the shirt and kicked Ranma away. "Don’t you touch me! I’m not going anywhere else with you!" Another wave of dizziness sped through his head with the force of a bullet train, causing him to grab at his temples and groan softly. He briefly wondered what on earth could be wrong with him, but then remembered all of the dubious ingredients that Kodachi had added to her stew. Great Kami-sama! Ryoga prayed that he hadn’t actually swallowed any of that evil stuff, but judging by the unpleasant taste in his mouth, he suspected that he had.

"Hey Ryoga," Ranma was looking rather concerned now, as he came to the realization that there was more wrong with his friend than just the usual anger. "What’s up? Are you all right?"

"Ranma . . . " Ryoga squinted at him, rather alarmed to find that strange multi-colored spots were line-dancing in his vision. In front of him, Ranma lost his vertical hold and was now flipping in a sickening manner. "This is all your fault, you . . . rat . . . bastard . . . " the bandanna’d youth managed to get out before he lost consciousness.

Ranma watched him slump over into the rumple of his clothing, which he hadn’t actually succeeded in getting completely on. He stared wonderingly for a moment, then went to work. With not as much reluctance as he should have had, the pig tailed martial artist got his friend dressed, struggling with Ryoga’s unresponsive body as he tried to wrest the clothes into their proper places. It was no easy feat, and required a great deal of pulling, yanking, and rolling Ryoga around on the floor to get the job done.

Once the task was completed, Ranma straightened and slung Ryoga over his shoulder, patting the Lost Boy’s upended rear with a rather naughty grin. "Let’s go, P-Chan. Three down and three to go!"

******************************************

"Now where am I?" Ryoga asked plaintively, looking up in the hopes of seeing something, anything, that was familiar. As luck would have it, he did recognize his location, and blinked rapidly, trying to remember how in the hell he had gotten there.

He was startled by the sound of a door sliding shut behind him. Ryoga jumped skittishly and turned in the same movement, his eyes widening as he found Ranma behind him. The slender young man was leaning back on the door he had just closed, smiling slightly at Ryoga with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Uhm . . . " Ryoga relaxed a bit, rubbing at the back of his head. "How did I get here?" He gestured at the twin futons of the Tendo’s guest room. From outside, he caught the sounds of a thunderstorm rolling in, and the light coming in through the window was subdued and threatening.

"How do you get anywhere, Ryoga?" Ranma shrugged fluidly, apparently not very concerned over the how and why. Taking a step forward, he made sure that Ryoga saw him turn the lock on the door.

His heartbeat quickening, the Lost Boy backed up. "Ranma? Wh - what are you doing?"

"Its your turn, P-Chan," Ranma told him lowly with a lecherous smirk, his eyes looking Ryoga up and down appreciatively. "And I’ve definitely been looking forward to this one."

"What?!" Ryoga eeped, jumping as shock tore through him like a lightening bolt. "What are you talking about?! I’m not one of your love interests!!"

"Oh no?" Ranma purred, moving closer. "Then why has it been bothering you so much that I’ve been kissing everyone else, hmmm?"

Ryoga continued to back up, until he felt his legs bump against one of the futons. "It doesn’t - t- t bother m - m - me!" he stuttered nervously, raising his hands to ward Ranma away. "St - stay back!"

"C’mon Ryoga," Ranma pressed right up close to him, batting his hands away and leaning against his chest. The two boys stared directly into each other’s eyes, holding the pose for a long moment. Ranma was smiling, the expression extending deeply into his eyes, and Ryoga felt his stomach tumbling in response. Making another fluttering attempt to back away, he tripped over the edge of the futon and fell backwards onto mattress.

Ranma was on top of him before he could react, straddling him as he had Kuno, and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. Or rather, he would have been grabbing a shirt if Ryoga were wearing one. The poor befuddled Lost Boy nearly passed out when he realized that not only had his clothes disappeared, but Ranma’s had as well. The satiny feel of skin against skin was warm and enticing, and the immediate evacuation of blood from his head to his nether regions left Ryoga feeling light-headed and even more confused.

"Th - th - th - th . . . " he wheezed, having completely lost the ability to articulate properly. Ranma didn’t seem to mind. He simply gripped the bandanna clad boy by his arms and pulled him in close, brushing their lips together ever so softly and teasingly.

Just that one little touch was enough to ignite a heat between them that was at once uncomfortable and wonderfully welcome. Ryoga melted, literally losing all of the strength he possessed. He let his head fall backwards and it became necessary for Ranma to support him completely.

"Okay?" the pig tailed boy breathed, carefully easing Ryoga down onto the futon with a fond sparkle in his eyes. He stretched himself out on the Lost Boy’s body, twining their legs together, creating greater heat as the friction between their arousals increased.

Ranma leaned down and gently licked his tongue along Ryoga’s lips, pulling back with a heavy-lidded smile. "You taste good, koibito."

"K - k - k - . . . ?" Ryoga shivered violently. There was a crash of thunder from outside.

"That’s what I said," Ranma verified. This time he allowed their lips to meet fully, pressing in deeply. Ryoga was too floored to respond at first. His brown eyes flew open wide and he jerked back slightly, but Ranma’s lips were insistent. They pressured against him, leveraging his mouth open. The heat between them grew ever stronger, and Ryoga was certain that the entire world could hear how hard his heart was pounding. When Ranma’s tongue invaded his mouth, it was all the young man could do to keep sentient.

"Are you sure he’s okay?"

Ryoga blinked, startled by this new voice which seemed intrusive and out of place. Still, a flush of mortified embarrassment spread over his face as he realized that meant someone else was present.

Ranma pulled back from the kiss, leaving his lips feeling strangely empty. The pig tailed boy propped himself up and looked over his shoulder. "Sure, I think so. He’s just having a rough day, that’s all."

Ryoga was bewildered. Who was Ranma talking to, and what was he talking about? A small fear seeped into his heart as he realized that the room around them was darkening. Thunder rumbled ominously someplace far away. "Ranma?" he asked softly.

Ranma glanced back at him, even as he was dissolving into the thickening darkness. "Wake up Ryoga," he said firmly, sapphire eyes being swallowed by the shadows.

"Yes, wake up and eat something," agreed that other voice. "It will make you feel better, sugar."

Lifting his head, Ryoga groaned softly and blinked himself back into consciousness. A fleeting disappointment whispered through his body as the last tendrils of his mushroom induced dream faded away.

The first thing he saw once his eyes managed to refocus was Ukyo, looking at him with concern. "Are you awake, Ryoga-kun?" she asked, mild worry in her eyes. "Ranma, he’s acting pretty sluggish. Are you absolutely certain that he’s all right?"

"Well . . . no . . . " Ranma, sitting beside Ryoga at the counter of Ucchan’s, admitted reluctantly. He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning down to peer at Ryoga’s groggy countenance. "Yo! Ryoga buddy, you okay?"

"Go to hell, Ranma," Ryoga muttered, and let his head sink back into his arms. One dilly of a headache was now rattling around on the inside of his head. Kami-sama! Ryoga’s respect for Tatewaki Kuno rose considerably, especially if this was the type of thing the young kendoist dealt with everyday. Firmly shoving the disturbing hallucination out of his head, Ryoga began to work on the daunting task of waking up fully.

"See? He’s fine," Ranma beamed. "Now how about our food?"

Ukyo cast one more glance at Ryoga, then nodded at Ranma, pouring out some batter for the okonomiyaki that he had ordered. Quickly putting the Lost Boy out of mind and fixing all of her attention firmly on the pig tailed object of her affections, the chief smiled warmly. "So, what are you boys up to today, Ranma?"

He shrugged easily. "Just hanging around, really."

From within the folds of his arms, Ryoga made a rather derisive noise.

"Quiet you," Ranma poked at him.

Ukyo quickly finished the first batch of okonomiyaki and was about to slide one down in front of Ranma, but hesitated, the steaming food poised on the edge of her spatula. "Ranchan," she began, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. "You can pay, can’t you? Remember, we discussed this the other day, I really can’t afford to keep carrying you. A freebie now and then is fine, but not every single time you come in here."

"Right right," Ranma flipped a hand at her. "I can pay, don’t worry. I got both me and Ryoga covered, okay?"

She eyed him for a moment, then seemed satisfied. "Okay, Ranma honey." With a smile she gave him his food and slid one over to Ryoga as well.

The Lost Boy propped his chin in his hand, leaning heavily on his elbow. He looked rather dazed and even more scruffy than usual. "Thank you, Ukyo."

"You’re welcome sugar. Let me get you a cup of tea too. You’re still a bit pale."

"Wow, Ucchan! This is even better than usual!" Ranma was devouring his food as if it was the last morsel of nutrition on earth. He hadn’t gotten the chance to finish his ramen at the Cat Café, after all, and was now close to starvation. "You’re outdoing yourself today!"

Ukyo stared at him for a moment, then a blush spread over her face and she pressed a hand to her cheek, her eyes arching upwards with her smile. "Do you really think so, Ranchan?"

His eyes mirrored hers. "Sure do! You’re the best, Ucchan."

Ryoga looked from one to another, squirming uncomfortably, then decided he’d better eat while he had the chance. He did his best to throw all of his attention into his meal.

"You’re just saying that," Ukyo argued, reaching out to slap Ranma around rather roughly, obviously quite pleased.

"Not at all," Ranma replied once he’d recovered. "I mean it."

"Stop!" she smacked him again, knocking him out of his stool into a sprawl on the floor. Ryoga watched Ranma drop, looking vaguely satisfied, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"Nothing out of you, Mr. P." The pig tailed martial artist warned as he dragged himself back to his feet, gripping the edge of the counter. As soon as he was standing again, he grinned rakishly. "C’mere, Ucchan," he requested, crooking his finger in a beckoning gesture.

The okonomiyaki chef blinked and stepped closer. Ranma leaned over the grill and cupped a hand around his mouth to whisper in her ear. "You’re awfully cute too."

Ukyo’s eyes popped open in surprise and she turned even redder, but before she could really react, he moved in for the kill. Kneeling up on the counter, he stretched forward and kissed her ever so sweetly.

It lasted only a moment, and was more polite than passionate. But it was enough that Ryoga began to look distinctly uncomfortable, a tiny sweatdrop appearing on his forehead. As they were the only things available, he began to fidget with his chopsticks, rapidly reducing them into little more than a pile of splinters.

Startled, Ukyo pulled back, her hand going immediately to her lips. "Ranchan . . . !"

Ranma smiled warmly, winking at Ukyo. "Well, what do you say Ucchan? Did that pay for lunch?"

"Uhh . . . " she breathed, taking a couple of unconscious steps back. "Ah, sure . . . sure . . . "

"Great! Thanks Ukyo! You’re wonderful!" Ranma beamed. He grabbed Ryoga by the back of the shirt and dragged him out of the restaurant, leaving a rather befuddled okonomiyaki chef behind.

"Let go!" Ryoga blushed and shrugged the other boy off, then made a nervous show of fussily straightening his clothes as they strolled down the street. It was now mid-afternoon and there were a lot of people about, typical of Nerima. Most of those that they passed gave them plenty of space, for the general populous of the neighborhood was well familiar with the two boys and knew that chaos was likely to break out at any moment.

"Relax," Ranma eyed him. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I suppose," Ryoga grumbled, quite obviously not in the best of moods. For some reason, he wouldn’t meet Ranma’s gaze. "So, have you made a decision yet, or what? I do not want to spend my entire day following you around."

"I dunno," Ranma mused, lacing his fingers behind his head and gazing thoughtfully up at the sky as they strolled. "Shampoo is definitely in the lead at this point. Her kiss was just incredible, and even though Kodachi’s was pretty good too, Shampoo was much better. Ukyo was nice, but it was more like kissing a sister than a girlfriend, you know?"

Ryoga decided not to point out that, -no- he didn’t know. He felt himself squirming inside, an unexpected and out-of-character jealousy springing suddenly into his stomach. What the hell was he jealous about? Shampoo? That was ridiculous! Obviously, this was just a residual feeling from that damn hallucination, which he decided he owed Kodachi Kuno for in a big way.

Ranma was still talking. "And Kuno! Geeze, that was nice at first, but then he got a little too personal. Right now, Mousse is ranking higher than him, and Mousse tried to kill me."

"So, Shampoo then?" Ryoga asked rather dully, forcing all the unpleasantness from his dream down into the depths of his gut where he hoped to never find it.

"Still two more to go, buddy," Ranma pointed out.

"Two?"

"Mikado and Akane." The pig tailed boy grabbed at Ryoga’s shirt again and increased his pace, pulling the young man along with him. "And Mikado is usually at the rink right about now, practicing. Let’s hurry so that we don’t miss him!"

"Yeah, wouldn’t that be a tragedy," Ryoga groused and this time allowed himself to be lead, somehow managing to conceal the new flush that spread over his face. Whether it was from annoyance or . . . something else . . . the Lost Boy couldn’t exactly say.

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