Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Black Leather Roses ❯ Wildflowers I: An Interlude ( Chapter 5 )

Notes: Well, I wasn’t going to post this until I got three reviews on Chapter Four, but Cody Thomas asked so nicely . . . and I just can’t refuse! You should all thank Cody-san profusely (as I do) for being such a dedicated reviewer. So here you are - - Aya in an apron.


Wildflowers I: An Interlude

~*~

Yohji’s disappointment at finding the bed empty was tempered by the savory smell of bacon infiltrating the room. Flipping back the wrinkled sheet, he stood, stretching his long, lean body. The warm light of early morning forced its way in through the blinds, casting bright strips across his naked body as he reached to the ceiling and let out a soft grunt of satisfaction.

Dropping his arms, Yohji turned to tug the white sheets off the bed. He balled them up and deposited them by the door for later washing before beginning a halfhearted search for clothes. His lover, it seemed, had been quick to the draw in picking up their previously discarded items, so wearing those was out. Not that Yohji had a penchant for day two wear, but seeing the look in Aya’s eyes when he showed up wearing the redhead’s yesterday boxers was too good not to indulge every once in a while.

With a little smile drifting over his lips, Yohji resigned himself to actual clothes and pulled jeans from the closet to drag them over his legs. Knowing Aya, he would demand a top as well. It seemed like such a hassle, but Yohji located a navy polo shirt and tugged it on. Really, he should have just showered and been ready for the day. He dismissed this with the pleasant thought of coaxing Aya into the shower with him. With the kids out of the way, they could be as loud as they wanted.

Hell, they could do it in the kitchen.

Yohji decided he was wearing way too many clothes for sex in the kitchen, but thought it would appease his boyfriend’s sense of propriety and therefore better his chances of getting Aya to remove his own, no doubt complete and tidy, set of clothing. These thoughts made him hurry to tie back his hair, retrieve his sunglasses from the nightstand, and finish his morning cigarette. Tossing the butt out the window and pulling it closed, Yohji spared the mirror a quick glance before heading downstairs.

He entered the kitchen with hopes of food and a little seduction.

Then he forgot the food entirely.

Aya stood in front of the stove wearing an apron, only an apron. It was pink and frilly, looped around his neck and tied in a large bow just over his perfectly bare bottom. He must have heard Yohji coming, because he stood with rigid posture, making his butt tense and pressing his legs together to hide his genitals as he poked at scrambled eggs with a metal spatula.

Yohji’s first instinct was just that, instinct. He felt a desperate pulse of desire that urged him to grab Aya and take him roughly from behind; he was nearly consumed with the need to shove his hardening cock between those bared cheeks and pound into the man until Aya screamed his name.

It was only with intense effort that Yohji fought back this desire. Swallowing hard, he walked forward slowly, as if unsure of his own resolve. Leaving Aya unmolested for the time being, he turned to lean back against the counter next to the stove, within arm’s length and facing the swordsman.

Aya continued to prod the eggs as if unaware of Yohji’s presence, but the blonde knew better. He surveyed the lean arms, muscles tense, and the slender neck still heavily bruised from the night before. Lower, the sides of Aya’s chest were revealed and one pink nipple peaked out from beneath the apron’s top, begging to be toyed with. A glance was spared for Aya’s pale legs, revealed from mid-thigh and leading down to those surprisingly manicured feet. How the hell did Aya manage to be so perfect?

Yohji’s gaze shifted to the man’s face for the first time as he went to ask this question only to have it die on his lips.

Aya was gorgeous.

His hair, obviously freshly washed, curled invitingly inward, softening the lines of his face and intensifying the deep purple of his eyes. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth in perpetual indication of concern. And he was blushing. It wasn’t the slight shading of pink that often ghosted over his features or even the flush that grew there at Yohji’s bawdy talk; no, it was almost red, stretching across the tops of his cheeks and nose as he tried to lower his head away from Yohji’s stare.

Pressed against the kitchen counter, Yohji made love to Aya with the apron still on.

~*~

Five reviews on chapter five (should be posted within twenty-four hours) gets you indecently dressed bishies. Think of it as an intricate game of strip poker. Now, click the review button to remove Yohji’s pants.