Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Black Leather Roses ❯ One: Vinyl Daffodils ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: If I owned Weiss, there would be naked boys for everyone! Alas, it's not so. I don't own any of the name brands mentioned here, either, or even the products. I make absolutely no money from these writings; it's all part of my charity work for the 2 Naked Bishounen Foundation which is dedicated to providing sex education to pretty boys around the world. Donate a yaoi fic today!

 

Notes: First, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing my fics. Cody-san, as always, thank you for your kind words and encouragement (especially on Out); you're the best fan ever!. Cierzo, it's so good to hear from you again! And blackorcid, I really appreciate your reviews, especially the sense of humor (I think we think along the same wavelength—scary, ne?) and I'm working on reading your wonderful fics to return the favor. And thanks to Joybug, Midnattssol and Kate the Night too, and to everyone else who took time to review; it really keeps me writing to see someone actually enjoys my stuff. And now, for you all, something san-angst which I hope you'll enjoy!

I went back to finish my old fic “That Kind of Fun” since so many kind people had reviewed it and I felt guilty for not wrapping up the last chapters, but I realize it's been forever ago and my style's very different, so, well, I'm having another go at a no-holds-barred yaoi multi-chapter PWP, only this time I want to push my own limits a bit (or a lot) and toss in, well, kinks.

 

Warnings: beware of fic

Chapter Warnings: yaoi, language, discussions of fetish, mature themes

 

~*~

Black Leather Roses

~*~

“It is only by enlarging the scope of one's tastes and one's fantasies, by

sacrificing everything to pleasure, that the unfortunately individual called

man, thrown despite himself into this sad world, can succeed in gathering a few roses…”

- Marquis de Sade

~*~

Chapter One: Vinyl Daffodils

~*~

“Stop it.”

Aya hissed the warning, slapping Yohji's hand away from a potentially dangerous area of his anatomy.

“Hmm…why?” Yohji's voice was low, sultry as a midsummer night.

“You know why.”

“Nooo,” his hand drifted back to Aya's thigh, “Tell me.”

“Omi's—”

“Yohji-kun! Aya-kun! What did I say!” Omi turned to look into the back seat of their rental car.

“Maybe we ought to put Yohji up front,” Ken offered from behind the wheel. It was getting dark, and leaving the blonde playboy in the back seat with Aya was like leaving a vampire with, well, Aya. Ken prayed that it was only the redhead's neck that got sucked, then instantly regretting going there as the alternative left a rather vivid image imprinted on his already scared psyche.

Omi continued to lecture, “We're not having a repeat of the Nagoya incident!”

“Do you see any ice cream?”

Omi shuddered.

“Don't you dare,” he warned. “Don't even touch Aya-kun.”

He thought for a moment, eyes going wide.

“And don't talk Aya-kun into touching you either!”

Yohji went to protest, but Omi's version of the Aya-glare reduced him to sulking on his side of the car. Leveling the same at Aya himself, though, Omi found the redhead completely ignoring him and was left having no idea if Aya would follow his order or not.

In truth, Aya was embarrassed. Not that he would ever admit to it. He never intended to do anything with Yohji in public, but somehow they still ended up kissing in the flower shop and touching on the living room couch and screwing on the roof. Aya wanted to blame Yohji; the playboy's reputation gave him full leverage to do so, but he knew better. It wasn't that Yohji forced him to do any of those things; being anywhere near the blonde made him want to grab him and touch and do extremely naughty things that would get them in trouble with Omi.

He had very little self control where Yohji was concerned. It was the one area of his life that slipped out from under his demanding system of rigid order, but this too served its purpose. Being out of control with Yohji let him keep it together in everything else, so, after much reflection and personal angst, he had accepted it. Not that he was planning to put on another live nude show any time soon.

With Aya staring out the window and Yohji pretending to smoke an unlit cigarette, Omi thought the situation rectified and turned back around to fasten his seat belt. He sifted through a few CDs, their titles difficult to read in the fast-fading light of late evening. Finally, he selected something by Gackt and slid it in. Ken made a face, but no one said anything.

They rode in peace for a while.

Omi heard the soft click of a seatbelt being undone.

“Don't even think about it,” he warned.

The seatbelt was refastened.

He heard them whispering, but it was mostly harmless complaining on Yohji's part, so he turned up the radio and forced a smile.

~*~

The backseat wasn't that big, so even with each of them buckled in, the space between them measured a meager foot. This decreased to eight inches as Yohji shifted in Aya's direction, laying back against the seat and turning his head to watch the other in the last vestiges of light.

“Ayan…”

“Hn?”

“I want you.”

“Hmm.”

“You're turning me on, sittin' over there in the dark.”

“I'm not doing anything.”

“Yet.”

A pause. He waited. Aya's eyes came to meet his own. Slipping free of his shoulder restraint, he shifted in the seat so that his right shoulder rested against the back and his right leg was curled in front of him with his hands loosely dropped into the well it made. One of his eartails fell longer than the other as he titled his head to rest it on the upholstery.

“You're doing it,” Yohji commented.

“What?”

“Bein' sexy.”

“Sorry.”

“No you're not.”

“No?”

“Uh-uhn. You're bad, Aya. I know.”

A lifted eyebrow, a little half smile.

“You're very bad. Naughty. I might have to spank you.”

The whisper of his voice fell over Aya like a blanket, nurturing a familiar heat.

“Can't touch me, Kudou.”

“Ah, well, I can think about it though,” he closed his eyes briefly, “Mmmm, yeah. I like having you bent over my lap with your pants around your knees, smacking your ass with my hand until its red as a ripe strawberry and you're crying out every time I swat you.”

“Hn.”

“Would you let me do that?”

A tiny sigh, not frustrated. Yohji thought he knew what it meant.

“Is that a yes? Would you let me spank you, Aya? Will you?”

“Yes.”

Yohji smiled, only slightly predatory.

“Or maybe you need a more…severe punishment.”

An intense stare gave Yohji's Aya's full attention, and he slowly wound it around his soft, sensual words.

“Maybe I'll strip you down and tie you up. We need some handcuffs.”

A mumbled phrase he missed.

“Huh?”

“I have some.”

Aya hoped Yohji couldn't see the blush in his cheeks; it was already dark, so he thought his chances were good.

“What kind?”

“Huh?”

“Metal, leather, fur . . . ?”

“Leather.”

“I love it. Fucking leather cuffs. I knew you were naughty.”

Aya almost rolled his eyes but settled for a long blink.

“Tell me about them.”

“ . . . ?”

“What do they look like?”

A shrug, no more than the slight pull of one shoulder, “They're black, wide, with two buckles, here.” He made a motion around his wrist.

“You're a leather boy. I wanna dress you up in leather pants, tight ones, so I see every curve. Low cut, show off your hips. Maybe a vest…no, mesh shirt, all black netting against your skin. You ought to get a nipple ring.”

“Hm.”

“It'd be damn sexy.”

“I thought you said I was already sexy,” the threat turned tease when his lip edged up, just a touch, in one corner.

“Oh,” he stretched his long legs then settled them back into an easy sprawl, “you are. But I like the idea of seeing a silver ring flash through a mesh shirt, pushing it up to get my hands under there, pinching your nipples till they're hard, getting the ring between my teeth so I can - you gotta get one.”

“I don't think so.” He hoped Yohji wouldn't push it, because he might give in. He was already debating the belly ring the blonde had been obsessing over for weeks.

“Ah, well, I settle for the shirt then. I'll take you out so we can dance together, give you a couple shots of Jager and press up against you while the music pulses through us. Everyone would watch my hands running over your body, all over your body; I'll be wondering how far you'll let me get and pushing it a little farther. I might kiss you.”

“Now?”

Yohji laughed without sound, “I'll fuck you right now.”

“You would.”

“Yes.”

They silently contemplated each other, both thinking. Aya was trying to convince himself it was ridiculous and that he could wait; Yohji was wondering what Aya could bite on to keep him quiet.

“You're loud,” the blonde said finally, bringing his unlit cigarette back to his lips only to look down at the rough texture. He had nearly chewed the end of it off. He slipped it between his lips anyway. When the responding comment didn't come, he looked back to Aya, trying to discern where their dialog had fallen off. “Huh?”

“What?”

“No comeback? I just told you you're loud in bed.”

Another shrug, “I am.”

“Yeah,” his voice slipped back into that slow, rhythmic cadence , “You're bad that way, screaming my name so fucking loud . . . I love when you do that, grab hold of me and just let it go. Damn,” he broke off suddenly as the filter finally broke free of his cigarette, letting it fall to his chest. With some shuffling, his discarded it and drew a new one from the pack.

“Where was I?”

“Somewhere between stroking your ego and stroking your dick.”

“Exactly where I like to be. Though I think I was gonna tie you up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think I'll strip you down and tie you to my bed, use those leather cuffs to keep your arms over your head—no, sitting up the first time, with your back against the headboard and your hands behind your back.”

“Maybe I won't let you.”

“I'll rub your dick until you're half crazy, then you'll let me. I'll have you sitting on my bed, hands behind you in fucking leather handcuffs, legs spread open so I can see how hard you are for me.”

Their eyes were locked, sharing something between a vision and a promise.

“Maybe I'll wear vinyl,” Yohji released a short, one-syllable laugh, “I could be a dominatrix.”

Yohji watched Aya closely, trying to gage reactions, silently storing up possibilities. They hadn't been together much more than a month, and they hadn't shared a bed immediately. Their short courtship meant they hadn't done too much exploration of play, but Yohji had more than sneaking suspicion that Aya got off on BDSM. He didn't have too much experience there, but Yohji Kudou was a fast learner, especially when it came to sex.

“What would we need? Besides the cuffs, I mean.”

“Hm.” That was noncommittal. Yohji felt the reluctance to admit too much, too give up valuable information under the guise of play in fear of later ramifications.

Yohji would give to get, “I think want a paddle. I've never used one, but I like the idea. If I got one, would you let me use it on you?”

“Aa.”

His smile widened, masking the bit of vulnerability, “Would you use it on me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you pretend I'm the rebellious school boy, trying to seduce the handsome, young teacher? I'd have to explain to Fujimiya-sensei how I couldn't resist him, all smart in those glasses; how I couldn't concentrate on my paper because I wanted, I needed to see what was under his shirt and tie. Always so proper, I wonder, could you teach me a lesson? Would you spank me and then do it right there on your desk?”

“If you like.”

“I like you so fucking much.”

“ . . . ”

“So, who do you want to be? You know, if we're gonna play.”

He let the question hang for a moment, watching Aya draw his bottom lip in between his white teeth. Yohji knew he had an answer, maybe even a detailed scenario. The redhead could be extremely creative when he wanted to, and Yohji had not been exaggerating when he had called him naughty. If Yohji could gain his trust in this, prove that he wasn't going to laugh or say no or look down on whatever hidden fetishes Aya loved or liked or, hell, just wanted to try out, there could be so many opportunities.

“You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know. I told you mine, even though it's kind of stupid—”

“It's not,” he licked his lips to wet them. “It's not stupid, Yohji.”

“Thanks.”

He reached out his hand, just resting it on the seat between them. Aya hesitated a second, then placed his own on top of it. They just enjoyed it for a moment. Then, Aya began to trace Yohji's fingers with the tip of his index finger, moving along each one with attentive caresses before absently stroking the back of the hand as he spoke.

“I have one, but,” his eyes diverted for the first time, watching his own slow movement, “it's weird.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded, chewing his lip again.

“I've done some weird shit, Aya. I doubt you can top it. And if you do, then that's fucking fantastic. I'll do it, if you tell me.”

“Don't laugh.” The eyes were back on his, challenging, daring, begging.

“I won't. What do you want to be?”

He brought two fingers of his free hand to his lip, touching it tentatively them holding them in front of his face; Yohji wondered if he's finally managed to make his lip bleed with his nervous habit. He wanted to kiss it and find out, but Aya dropped his hand and took a breath to speak.

“I want to be…a…a pet.”

He held Yohji's stare in the dark, but not without effort. He felt the heat spread across his nose and the top of his cheeks. He started to withdraw his hand from Yohji's, but the blonde wasn't having it, making a quick grab to interlace their fingers.

“Pet,” he repeated the word, trying it on his tongue and attending Aya's hand for reaction. “Like with a collar and leash and sh—things?”

“Aa.”

He nodded, then gave Aya a bright smile, “I like it. You'll have to teach me—”

“Teach Tokyo's best playboy?” There was relief in the gentle teasing, an unwinding of muscles in his arms and back.

“I'm secretly a virgin,” he asserted.

“Of course.”

“But I'm thinking of giving it up to my boyfriend. He's a florist and just super dreamy,” he parodied.

Yohji wanted to press Aya for details on playing as a pet, but the man had gone nervy at the topic, so a furtive conversation in the back seat probably wasn't the opportunity he needed. He thought about Aya in a collar, naked at his feet, following him on a leash, being petted.

“We really need to go shopping.”

“Aa.”

“There's a place in Kabikicho. Maybe we can go tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

Aya had expectations that it would be an absolutely mortifying experience, but acting out fantasies with Yohji would be more than adequate compensation. Images of the older man dressed in a school boy's uniform kept flitting through his mind, competing in large part with an idealized tableau of Yohji disciplining his new pet.

“We need lube anyhow. And an extra one to keep in the greenhouse.”

It was quiet again. Omi's soft snores filtered back, nearly obscured by the radio.

“Aya?”

“Hm?”

“You hard?”

“Aa.”

“Me too.”

A few more seconds of quiet contemplation. Yohji failed to notice the click of the CD player as it ejected the silver disk, switching back to the quiet strains of classical that Aya had requested earlier.

“Think Ken would notice if we jacked each other off?”

“Yes!” Ken snapped suddenly from the front seat, “Ken would definitely notice!”

Undaunted, Yohji leaned forward between the seats, “Want to watch?”

“No!”

“Then I need a fucking smoke break.”

~tbc?~

 

Notes: Okay, the plan is two or three opening chapters, then a progression of chapters based on particular fetishes the boys explore and have various reactions to. Now, if you'd like to see something particular, please let me know! And if not, review anyway, I implore you in the name of the Evil Hentai Slug!