Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Black Leather Roses ❯ Four: Plastic Peonies ( Chapter 4 )

Notes: Thank you Cody Thomas, glinwulf, and akirareader for your reviews! They really motivated me to keep working on this even when it became resistant (sometimes fics need a little discipline, you know). Also, I had been discontent with the chapter titles since I started, and I finally figures out what I wanted to do with the silly things; I hope everyone has their flower dictionary at the ready.

Chapter warnings: yaoi (please consider this as applied to the remainder of the fic), language, slight exhibitionism


~*~
Black Leather Roses
Chapter Four: Plastic Peonies
~*~



Yohji liked to watch.

He liked to watch even when Aya wasn’t doing anything.

He sat quietly, leaning towards the cool window, elbow bent against the narrow edge so that his hand could support the head tilted upon it without the active participation of any muscles. His forehead rested against the glass, his eyes hidden by the messy fall of his hair. One might have thought Aya asleep if not for the noticeable tension in his shoulders and, well, elsewhere. Of course, it was the elsewhere that concerned Yohji.

Once they’d argued over the schedule and caught, barely, one of the last trains, Aya had tried to hold their bags in his lap. Yohji was having none of it. Pointing out that one a.m. was hardly rush hour, that the car was completely deserted, and that the seats in front of them made excellent bag-rests, he pried them away to reveal a delectable surprise. Aya was visibly hard. Yohji hadn’t been entirely sure what the effects of his rather messy finish had had on the redhead, having been left with Aya’s enigmatic stare when he tried to question. But even Yohji, blonde or not, could understand the stiff ridge in Aya’s jeans.

Not that Aya didn’t try to hide it. He did, shifting towards the window, one lean thigh slightly raised, and feigning sleep. Yohji wondered if he even fathomed that the blonde knew him well enough to realize that sleeping in front of other people was something that his boyfriend didn’t do. He probably thought Yohji had forgotten, or never noticed in the first place. No such luck.

But it did make a tempting picture. Aya, sitting in the train, almost asleep like some intoxicated schoolgirl, looking innocent but secreting a hardon between his pressed thighs.

The train slowed, gliding into another station: not home. When the breaks caught, Aya’s head rocked forward on his hand; one eartail fell in a bright red arch across his left cheek, the end resting just below his chin as it swept tantalizingly close to his lips. It was stiff, at least in places. No matter how many times Aya ran his fingers through it, the lock of hair refused to lay properly down. Once more he unconsciously reached to smooth it into place, fingers trailing over the resistant strands that clung together with the last remnants of their fun in the ally. When it fell back from his long fingers, several stands did land across his lips. His hand reached, but Yohji saw, just before it moved, Aya flick out his tongue to draw the red strands into his mouth.

Yohji promptly lost track of what station they were at.

“Don’t,” Aya stated without looking up.

Yohji disregarded the warning, slipping the fingers of his right hand further in between Aya’s warm thighs.

“We’re on the train,” he tried.

Yohji pressed his fingers upward, forcing Aya’s legs apart when he twisted his hand to cup him through his jeans.

“Kudou, this is the last train on the Yamanote line, and I do not want to walk home.”

“So?” he returned, finally

“So stop touching me there!” he hissed under his breath, turning further away and angling his knees towards the window.

Yohji drug his hand away, but replaced it almost instantly with its twin, pressing the palm of his left onto Aya’s crotch as he turned to face the seat and whisper in the swordsman’s ear.

“Mmm, Aya,” he indulged in a brief lick of the ear’s edge, “Your body wants to be touched there.”

He gave Aya a rough squeeze and heard the younger man gasp, felt the tantalizing inhalation on his shoulder as Aya pressed his mouth there to hide the sound. Yohji felt strong fingers tighten around his upper arms with almost bruising intensity as he worked his hand down the front of Aya’s jeans just far enough to run the tips of his own fingers over Aya’s cock, feeling the tense, hot head that gave up a drop of slick liquid when he turned to bite at Aya’s neck.

“Sorry,” he whispered, fingers trying to wedge themselves further into the tight confines of Aya’s pants while the younger man pushed up against them. His breath was already short, and Yohji could feel the echo of his earlier desperation. “I shouldn’t have made you wait so long.”

Reluctantly, he slipped his hand from the jeans; Aya made a minor retreat, fingers loosening and head slipping slightly downward so that his forehead rested on Yohji’s shoulder. The only other point of contact was the blonde’s knees pressing into Aya’s left thigh as he leaned awkwardly over the swordsman. Aya might have taken the reprieve to collect himself, but Yohji had other ideas, not one of which involved stopping.

Taking a firm hold under Aya’s right knee, he shifted his weight backward, falling back into his seat and dragging Aya with him so that the redhead ended up straddling his lap. Though he initially landed with his bottom settled fairly safely mid-thigh, another expert shift from Yohji brought him firmly against the blonde. He felt the swordsman’s legs relax, widening slightly over his own; reaching back, Yohji grabbed Aya’s firm butt with both hands, jerking him forward to rub his hardon against the blonde’s lower stomach, tantalizingly close to his crotch.

But that could be ignored, especially when Aya’s hands were grabbing at his hair and sharp teeth were ghosting at his neck. Yohji had learned early on that Aya was a biter, and while he appreciated the general restraint the man usually showed, now he wanted the fierce proof of the man’s desire. He tilted his head and bared his neck, shifting Aya’s hips against him in rhythmic motions which the redhead soon picked up on his own. The hands tightened in his hair, almost painful, as Aya’s lips clamped down just under his jaw, hard suction followed immediately by the sharp pinch of teeth. Yohji hissed regardless of his preparation, a sound that seemed to spur on his lover, Aya’s rhythm speeding up, his thrusts becoming less aimed as he clung to long strands of blond hair.

“Yohji,” he moaned the name against his lover’s neck, following the warm word with a lick of the skin that made Yohji shiver. “I can’t wait.”

Yohji clutched him closer, one hand still on his ass as the other pressed flat against his back, steadying him as Aya thrust almost desperately against him. He was close, and then–

“Yeah, cowboy! Ride that fucking stud!”

Aya froze at the unfamiliar voice, instantly tense and reaching for his boot and the blade hidden there. The knife gave Yohji pause, but the instinctive fear that coiled in his gut was a reaction to the cold, steel expression that snapped down over Aya’s face. The wanton, flushed visage transformed, leaving Abyssinian, icy despite the pink in his cheeks. He would kill the interloper.

Yohji held him tight, trapping Aya against his chest as he shot his own glare over his lover’s shoulder.

Standing with his back braced against a row of seats was a young guy, rather short but passably cute; it was painfully obvious that he was trying too hard to be tough, decked out in tight jeans and a leather jacket, no shirt. His dark hair was heavily gelled and spiked around his pierced face. A group of four sat behind him, all turned in their seats to watch. They were probably college students, headed home after a night of drinking, having no idea that they what they were flirting was death.

“Smile, pretty boys!” Mr. Badass lifted his cell phone to take a picture.

Yohji couldn’t help it; flashing a Victory sign, he grinned over Aya’s shoulder. The camera phone clicked twice, Yohji gripping Aya with hurting strength the entire time.

“You’re dead,” Aya hissed in his ear as he struggled to lift himself off Yohji’s chest only to have the blonde tug him back. Using the wire had advantages, and impressive upper body strength was one of them.

Yohji jumped at the harsh rake of nails down his side. True, unless he wanted to bite out of spite and with an audience, it was one of the few moves left to Aya in his restricted position, but Yohji hadn’t expected it. It hurt, and he knew enough to let go of Aya immediately. But he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I like it when you’re rough.”

~*~

Yohji had estimated six deaths, his own included.

But the next stop was theirs, and he had gotten them both off the train with no more than a few bruises.

Aya assured the blonde that he was lucky, and informed Yohji that he had lots of time to think how auspicious the timing had been since the redhead was sleeping in his own room that night.

He left the gaping man in the hallway, holding their impressive plunder which had, in Aya’s skillful recrimination, been rendered worthless, a fool’s gold of sexual pleasure when deprived of a warm body on which to try their metal.

~*~

Yohji slept alone for all of twenty minutes. The entirety of this was spent in a fitful doze on top of his comforter which, upon waking a third time after yet another reach for something not there, he gave it up. More than aware that Aya’s temper wouldn’t have yet cooled, he spent another half hour sorting through their recent acquisitions and carefully stashing away those that Aya didn’t know about. This was interspersed, of course, with bouts of fixed staring at certain objects while his mind supplied creative ideas of what he could do with them which lead, in turn, to gratuitous touching of himself through his pants.

Not that he stayed in them very long.

Fifty-seven minutes after having been ditched by his lover in the hall, a naked Yohji with a considerable hardon slipped into the swordsman’s room. Aya might yell at him, but he doubted it. Having expressed his displeasure and gotten his way in dismissing Yohji, Aya would probably, with some cajoling, set aside his anger in favor of letting Yohji make good on his promises to reciprocate for his earlier generosity.

Three weeks ago, Aya giving him a blowjob outside the privacy of their bedroom would have shocked the hell out of him. And while it still had a brilliant surprise factor, Yohji admitted that he had expected, even asked for it. But, despite his apparent stupidity in dealing with the train incident–where he was now sure he should have jumped to defend Aya’s honor, a course of action that would have gotten him only a lecture on the man’s ability to do it himself–instead of admitting any kind of amusement at his lover’s embarrassment. It hadn’t helped that the boys had picked a particularly bad moment for interruption, with Aya bare seconds away from climax.

It was over the instant Aya heard them, his control snapping down over any hint of desire, suffering cock notwithstanding.

It wasn’t any wonder he had threatened them, and Yohji in turn. The blonde was sure, though, had he managed to get a hand or mouth anywhere near the right spot during the brisk walk home, Aya would have fallen right back into his arms. Said maneuvers were prevented only by Aya’s threat to break Yohji’s hand the next time it got anywhere near his swimsuit zone.

He had meant it at the time.

Now, however, the door closed quietly behind him, and Yohji slipped towards the bed with confidence, courage, and a new toy. He was ready to play.

~tbc~

Notes: Please give the Miko your reviews! I feed them to the slug, you see, in exchange for nearly naked pretty boys. Do you think three reviews is a fair price for Aya cooking in nothing but an apron? Ah, but the Yohji with the strategically placed bouquet is tempting, too. Hm…perhaps I need to see the catalog again…